An Unspoiled Value
by Icky Boodles
Summary: A/U of a sinister proposition, observable passion, smooth expanses of naked flesh, a promise of pain, enslavement and suffering with the slightest misstep. Many character appearances but I promise a sweet, passionate and lovely SanSan saga. Also published over at GoT, written for fellow SanSan lover, Penelope's peas. Please enjoy, xoxo
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story was requested by fellow SanSan lover Penelope's-peas, who made my year when she asked me to write her SanSan idea. I am nervous posting this, I hope that I have captured her idea and presented it with effectiveness, warmth and deliberate haunting and beautiful hesitation. This story is an A/U of sorts, The Hound does not desert at Black Water and remains on the Kingsguard. Petyr Baelish is not granted Harrenhal but already has a new plan percolating. Tywin Lannister is still named Savior of the City and Hand of the King. Tyrion awakes with a diagonal bandage in much smaller living quarters.

To my fellow psych majors, I hope you find the Jungian duality and archetypes as well as a dash of Maslow and Freud just for the fun and thought provoking nature delightful.

I heart SanSan. I hope you enjoy, xoxo.

Sansa struggled to keep the smile from her lips when Joffrey moved his attention to the seductive Margery Tyrell who had just pledged her ultimate devotion and love for him. Joffrey's beady eyes moved over Margery's sun kissed skin exposed from her gown's plunging neckline as she stood with her head tilted in reverence and dropped her eyes with a demure lift of the corners of her lips.

Lord Baelish approached Sansa as she pretended to having just had her spirit crushed underfoot. Her eyes widened as he whispered to her about her future should she stay in King's Landing.

"You have a tender heart," he said in a low tone as he gripped her upper arm. She wanted to squirm under his touch, each of his fingertips bit into her soft skin that was barely protected by the violet taffeta gown.

"My lord?" she asked with confusion that was becoming stained with fear.

"I can help you, keep you safe, clean and alive. I will provide you a roof overhead and hot meals and sweet Dornish wine" he said as his eyes trailed greedily over her slim neck.

"I don't understand my lord, my home is here in King's Landing" she stated in a quivering tone, unsure of where the strength to keep eye contact with him arose from.

"Will you share a meal with me tonight?" When she didn't answer immediately he lifted the end of one of her braids. "You remind me so much of your mother" he whispered. The braided hair was heavy in his hand and soft as the downy fur of winter rabbits.

"If it please you my lord" she said and then thought of how the Hound would have taunted her courteous chirping. Her thoughts moved past the reptilian Littlefinger standing in front of her and her eyes looked past his shoulder to seek out Sandor Clegane. He stood in his usual statuary stoicism as Joffrey continued to banter bestowments back and forth with Margery Tyrell.

Sansa found herself trapped in Cersei's gaze once again and swallowed hard under the brilliant yet cold stare from the queen regent. Cersei's eyes seemed to soften for a moment with pity and perhaps a small measure of empathy and she waved a hand at Sansa in dismissal, granting her a reprieve from the chaotic throne room.

Sansa started off at a brisk pace and was stopped by Littlefinger's arm closing around her again, she tensed at his touch and her skin crawled when his words came close to her ear, her hair moved with each of his exhalations.

"I'll arrange safe passage for dinner" he whispered and she fought to not cringe. She nodded and continued to her joyless chambers and leaned against the door after she closed it, she hung her head as the certainty of enslavement to Joffrey was one possible future and the other lie within Petyr Baelish.

While Sansa struggled not to cry, Sandor remained in the throne room with Joffrey as he was handing out lordship's to several people who had bought and sold others for personal gain and recognition from the boy king. He had watched the entirety of Littlefinger's exchange with Sansa, he had clenched his teeth until his jaw popped when Littlefinger touched her.

"Dog" came the child king's voice from behind him.

"Your grace" he rumbled turning to the juvenile ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.

"You showed exceptional battlefield prowess and have an astonishing body count. For your loyalty Dog" he said as he threw a dark hand sewn sack that was filled with a healthy amount of gold dragons. "This should be enough to let you have your fill of drinking and fucking for awhile" he added chuckling like a gleeful child.

Sandor picked up the bag that was heavy with gold, he growled a barely coherent thanks and then returned to his alert state. He saw Sansa departing the throne room and would have been happy to eviscerate Littlefinger on the spot when he witnessed his near drooling at Sansa's departing form.

Lord Baelish missed Sandor's bloodthirsty stare when Joffrey summoned him closer.

"Lord Baelish for your loyalty I award you with coin enough to make you a very rich man and a lifetime appointment on the council."

"I don't have the words to express my gratitude your grace" he said giving a bow.

Joffrey's eyes returned to Margery's smooth expanse of skin of her chest and moved to her breasts that were pushing against the silken fabric.

Baelish moved to the rear of the throne room, he had to find a protective escort for Sansa to his brothel for dinner and his proposition. He watched as the Hound shifted to follow the king from the throne room, he followed at a close distance. Eventually Sandor retired from the king's presence and Baelish approached him from the shadows.

Sandor glared down at the smaller man who struggled to match his longer strides, the mailed armor offering a metallic sounding melody. "Excuse me ser" Baelish started.

"I am no ser, what do you want?" he rasped and increased his pace, causing Baelish to break into a jog in order to keep up.

"I want to hire you for a small job" he said in between his increased breathing rate from the unusual exertion.

"What job?" Sandor growled without looking over.

"I am going to dine with lady Stark or rather just Sansa now since she will become a whore in the disguise of a brood mare, I might have a way of helping her out and I need to make sure she gets to and from dinner without harm. She has been unlucky in the open streets before, I'm quite sure you remember" Baelish said with a leer.

Sandor looked over and glared at him, Baelish felt his bladder threaten to release and he swallowed hard and rushed his words. "Any whore you want for the night and as much wine as you can drink in between fucking her."

Sandor tapped the large bag of gold the boy king had tossed at his feet.

"I've enough for both for awhile."

"Then a credit for the future, I'll let you have your pick anytime you want. You can pick next week or next year, provided Sansa Stark arrives and departs without any harm."

Sandor nodded and left Baelish standing in a bright and sunny castle courtyard, he cleared his throat and nervously ran his hands through his hair as he watched the Hound disappear around a corner.

He looked up at the sun high overhead, he was anxious to sit across from the fiery haired beauty and watch how she processed his proposal.


	2. Chapter 2

Sandor rounded the corner and left Baelish back in the open courtyard. He had wanted to relieve Littlefinger of his head when he had mentioned Sansa and what her future would hold should she remain at the castle. He also knew that Littlefinger didn't do anything out of the goodness of his heart and knew the underlying motive would be nothing less than vile and reeking of decay. He headed to a nearby tavern right outside the castle walls, the Dornish wine was strong and pungent with juniper berries and the deep yellow ale wasn't watered down.

Because of the quality of its alcohol as well as the busty tavern girls, whose inviting curves and hip sways made it a popular and crowded place. Sandor never had a problem finding a space to sit, even when the tavern was in full bustling mode and the downstairs was flowing with mugs of sweet wine and upstairs seed was being spilled on the inside of creamy thighs and round breasts, people would always make room for him.

He walked to the bar and two men moved aside without a word and Sandor growled out a want for wine to the craggy and weathered barkeep Genther who had lived in the same house on the same small patch of property for more than sixty name days. Genther passed a full mug of wine to Sandor who drained it in a few swallows and followed it up with a wet sounding belch. Genther was already waiting to refill the mug when Sandor set it back down on the bar.

The next mug he drank at a slower and more reserved pace as his thoughts moved to his little bird, he imagined she was practicing her courteous chirping.

Despite his theory on her actions, Sansa was sitting on a padded and embroidered chair as Shae brushed her hair. She was avoiding her eyes in the mirror and looked down at her hands that were gripped together in her lap.

"Are you okay my lady?" Shae asked as she moved the stiff bristled brush through the brilliant and bold red tendrils.

Sansa nodded and opened her mouth to speak in a low and hushed tone despite the fact that they were alone behind the latched door. "Lord Baelish said he could help me and is going to tell me while a share a meal with him this evening at one of his…houses" she whispered, a blush brightening her cheeks when she thought of what happened under the wooden roof on silken sheets.

Shae nodded, she thought of a careful response. She had heard of the child king turning his attention to Margery Tyrell, she knew what that meant for the once Lady Sansa Stark.

"Perhaps he will be able to help you my lady" she said even though she didn't trust Littlefinger, she had disliked him at first glance and had decided it must have been his eyes. She had been surprised he didn't have a forked tongue, he had offered her a position in one of his pleasure houses when he first saw her in the castle halls. She had scoffed and walked away from him, now that she was in King's Landing no one but her made decisions about her actions or body. She had offered a string of curses in her native tongue, all Littlefinger had heard was various syllables and sounds. She had in fact told him of all the various activities he could do with his horse, mother and self.

While Sandor motioned for another refill of the rich burgundy wine, Shae was helping Sansa into a deep emerald gown that was cut narrow in the waist and emphasized her soft and inviting curves. Shae pinned a small section of her hair back and let the rest fall loose to tumble past her shoulders and rest on the smooth pale skin of her upper back that the gown left uncovered.

Sandor finished the last mug and left the loud tavern, several of the scantily clad girls had gathered around a local musician playing an out of tune violin and were giggling and twirling to the catchy tune. Sandor walked back through the castle hallways and passed through the rose garden on his way to Sansa's chambers. His vision of the world was hazy around the edges from the strong grip of the alcohol and he knocked loudly on the door to her room.

He opened the door when he heard her gentle tone call out. He cleared his throat when his eyes first drank her in. Despite the crushing embrace from the wine and ale, she consumed his senses for a brief moment in time. He ran his eyes in a deliberately slow and lazy trail from the hem of her gown that swept against the floor to her slim waist that led to her rounded breasts that pushed against the deep green of the fabric. The tops of her breasts were smooth, outlined by the thickly sewn neckline of a deeper green thread. The pale and unlined expanse of skin across her chest and shoulders drew his eyes up the length of her slim neck and along her cheekbones.

She dropped her eyes and turned her attention to Shae who brought over a woolen shawl in case the night air brought a chill with it on her return trip to the castle. She nodded gratefully and tucked the shawl under her arm and glanced at Sandor's face, briefly meeting his eyes. She dropped her eyes as a small frown creased her forehead, she usually saw anger in his stormy grey eyes, she wasn't able to name what she was seeing now.

He stepped aside and let her walk out of the room first, she nodded and was going to thank him but didn't want to sound like she was offering properly trained chirping. She walked at an easy pace, the layers of her gown swirled around her legs in soft waves and her hair bounced lightly against her back and shoulders. Sandor walked behind her at a close distance and found himself mesmerized by the moving red strands of hair that shimmered and shifted with each of her steps.

His eyes followed the neat line of tight laces that kept her gown closed, he wanted to tug the laces apart and expose her silky and creamy skin that would lead down to the supple curves he longed to grip his fingertips into and where he ached to bury his cock.

She kept opening her mouth to speak to him and then found herself unable to formulate a coherent sentence. She hoped he would start a conversation or even make a rough comment about her courtesies. She finally looked back over her shoulder at him, "his grace certainly gave you a fine reward for your battlefield heroics?" she said in a voice she hoped sounded stronger than it was.

Sandor gave a dry chuckle, he hadn't realized she had heard what Joffrey had bestowed upon him in between staring at Margery's tits. "Aye, little bird, he gave me enough gold that I can fuck three whores a night and still have my fill of wine."

She frowned again, "must you be so crass?" she asked with a cringe.

"Did I offend thee my lady?" he asked with a sarcastic sneer and she felt her eyes grow hot as they threatened to fill with tears.

"Do you ever feel any love for those…women?" she asked in timid slowness and near crippling shyness.

He chuckled again, the deep rumble of his laugh in his chest made her cheeks flame to a flattering pink which spread to her ears.

"No little bird, you don't love whores, they serve a purpose."

"What purpose is that?" she pressed.

"A warm hole to fuck instead of your hand" he snapped, not wanting to discuss whores and fucking them.

She stopped and turned on him, her hair flew around her shoulders as she snapped her face up to him. His eyes danced with visions of her tantalizing locks and bright eyes that were filled with equal amounts of anger and resignation.

"That's what I am to become then, a place for the king to put his bastards" she hissed as she dropped her hands to rest on her satin covered lower abdomen. "His grace will rape me and I will be reduced to his whore, a warm hole" she snapped practically spitting.

He opened his mouth to respond but she had already whirled away from him and increased her pace as Littlefinger's brothel came into view. He overtook her pace quickly with his long strides and reached and closed a large hand around her elbow slowing her down.

"Sansa wait" he said and she slowed at his use of her name. She turned to him again trying to keep her face blank and void of emotion.

Before he could articulate anything, Littlefinger's voice cut into their breathing space.

"Lady Stark, you are radiant as always" he said as he walked towards them with a wide smile that exposed his pointed canines and lent him the look of a predator when its eyes widen in delight at its helpless prey.

Sansa smiled sweetly up at Sandor and offered a small curtsey when Littlefinger approached. "Thank you for the safe escort" she said with a dip of her head and then turned and tilted her head in greeting at Littlefinger.

"Yes thank you" Littlefinger reiterated and led Sansa into the wide doorway of his brothel. Sandor waited in the foyer of the large pleasure house with its polished floors and soft light from fat yellow burning candles and warm burgundy fabric draped along soft pillows and wine glasses that were never allowed to become empty.

Sandor watched Littlefinger lead Sansa to a small private dining area that was blocked off with thick partitions that were adorned with paintings of couples having sex on rocks, land and clouds.

Sandor slowly positioned himself with a bulging wine skin near the end of one of the screens, there was a small imperfection in the wood and he was allowed a sliver of light in which he could see Sansa's profile and the barest glimpse of Littlefinger. He settled back as Littlefinger led Sansa to a soft padded chair where a large bowl of fruit split into large chunks and wedges, sweet slices of fruit bled their nectar onto white plates and caused the fingertips and lips to become stained with their sugary blood.


	3. Chapter 3

Littlefinger poured Sansa a full goblet of honeyed ale from a metal carafe. He filled his own glass and then sat back in his carved chair with twisted copper accents.

He smiled at Sansa before taking a sip of the sweet ale, he watched her over the brim of the cup. She picked up the full goblet in front of her and took a delicate sip from the alcohol that sloshed just under the brim.

The summer fruit brew was rich and heady and assaulted her senses as it coated her lips and brewed down her throat to relax the bundle of nerves that resided in her belly. She took another sip and replaced the glass on the table.

Sandor drank from the smooth wine skin and stifled a yawn as he observed Littlefinger and Sansa exchange courtesies and discuss trivial topics that held zero relevancy. He listened enthralled as Sansa chirped just as she had been taught, he smiled as she continued to sip at the sweet alcohol. The intoxicating liquor was sweet on the tongue and lips.

Littlefinger set his glass down and leveled his gaze at Sansa. "Now that his grace is infatuated with another, your future has a distinct and unpleasant future" he stated factually.

She nodded, "yes I shall become Joffrey's whore and mother to his golden haired bastards" she stated in a dull tone of the inevitable.

He tried to keep the surprise from her face at her empty words and being resigned to her fate, he cleared his throat before speaking in an almost even and unruffled tone.

"I can help you, I promise you'll eat till you're full, drink to satisfy any variety of thirsts and I can fulfill other tastes that run to the exotic" he said with a leer.

She swallowed hard as he continued speaking. He had waited to see if she would run away, she was rigid on the plush cushion but still remained seated.

"Come here and find employment, safety and a new family. You can have your own room if you'd like for awhile, but you will find friends with Ros and my other beautiful ladies. I swear that you will have only the best and finest clients, there are financials that Ros will clarify later. You are a rare delicacy Lady Stark" he whispered.

She cleared her throat and looked down at her lap.

Sandor sat up with interest and pressed his face to the imperfection in the wood that allowed for the small seam to part the wood grains. He blinked as he focused all of his attention on Sansa as she sat staring down at her lap, absorbing and processing his words. His breath slowed in his chest and he could hear the staccato beat of his heartbeat drumming in his ear and reverberating through his head.

"Don't answer just yet" Littlefinger said in a jovial smile, "after all I did promise you a meal." He snapped his fingers a few times and Sansa turned towards the doorway as Ros walked into the room with a large round platter piled high with layers of a spicy roasted meat sliced into thick layers, pink centers bled bloody tears and emitted a warm and aromatic steam.

Ros was followed by a slender blonde haired woman holding a tureen of a steaming root vegetable soup with slices of wood oven baked fresh bread. A third girl was very young and had a small hint of budding breasts under a thin silk robe, she held a round pot that was filled with a warm summer fruit compote topped with a sugary and nutty crumble. Sansa almost licked her lips as the scent of fresh stone fruit wrapped around her.

Littlefinger gestured towards Ros, "this is the lovely Ros, she is also very fiery in spirit. You might find a friend in her" he said as he spoke to Sansa. He then turned his gaze to Ros, "this is Sansa, she might be joining us here."

Ros tilted her head and smiled at Sansa, "a pleasure." Littlefinger turned his attention to the blonde girl who had seen ten and eight name days. "This is Summer, she has an enchanting singing voice.

Summer nodded her head and offered a warm smile, the last girl who had wide set dark eyes with a dazzling fringe of dark lashes was introduced by Littlefinger as Ivey. The young girl smiled and set down the tempting dessert dish so that the aroma invaded Sansa's breathing space and made her lose her train of thought.

Sandor watched the women walk in and all smile graciously at Sansa. He had to give credit to Littlefinger for selecting such an enticing and sweet liquor and array of culinary delights to encourage Sansa's comfort and quell any fears. He watched as Sansa visibly relaxed as Ros plated a large serving of the warm fruit concoction.

Littlefinger dismissed the girls and they set their remaining bowls and platters on the large table and left with a whisper of moving fabrics. He watched Sansa as she took a careful bite of the fresh from the wood fire delectable preparation.

Sandor also watched as unspoken thoughts moved across her face and he found himself growing more anxious with each bite she took, his anxiety deepened with each sip of the honey sweet ale she washed her food down with.

When she pushed her nearly empty plate away and dabbed at her lips with an embroidered linen napkin and started to speak, Sandor found himself unable to process her words when they first left her lips.

"You ensure my safety while I am in your employment?" she asked and he was already assuring her before she could finish her sentence.

"Tomorrow I will go to his grace and request that I can have you moved here, since he now has a new obsession I don't see why he would care" he said with a rare amount of honesty.

Sansa nodded and a slow blush filled her face as she thought of her unspoken questions.

Sandor squeezed the wine skin so tight in his hand that the seams threatened to burst, he eliminated that possibility by draining the contents in a few long swallows. He felt a pressure mounting between his eyes and in the space between his shoulder blades as his body tensed and his eyes bled to emptiness.

He wanted to destroy the partition and storm the room, he practically salivated at thinking of pulling Littlefinger's bowels out through his throat, releasing the foul stench from the man who was rotting from the inside out.

He slowed his breathing as Sansa started talking in a soft tone, "you won't let any men hurt me?"

Littlefinger placed a hand over her pale hand with slim fingers and smooth fingernails, he patted in what he believed to be a comforting manner as he spoke in a gentle tone. "You will only be touched by the best" he said as he dropped to a knee in front of her and dropped a hand to her gown covered thigh.

She tensed as he squeezed her flesh through the layers of satin, "I will personally select the men who will share your bed for the evening." He was back in his seat and reaching for his glass before she could protest. She could feel where his fingertips had pressed into her skin, pinpoints of pressure remained from his surprisingly strong touch.

Sandor gritted his teeth until his jaw popped when he watched Littlefinger's hand come to rest on her upper leg, he dropped a hand to the hilt of his sword and for a split second debated charging forward and scooping her up and tearing out of the city with his little bird. Instead he clenched his hands into tight fists and let his vision grow dark around the edges with his growing anger at a man pushing his cock into her.

He stalked away from his bird's eye view of the two of them and sought out a new bloated wine skin. He was halfway through the second skin of wine when Littlefinger appeared at his side with Sansa. Sandor looked down at her and her brightened complexion and shy smile, she must have had more of the ale after he walked away.

"Lady Stark is ready to return to the castle" Littlefinger directed at Sandor and quickly reworded when he found himself drowning in the massive man's gaze. "If it is convenient now, Lady Stark would probably be more comfortable back in her chambers."

Sandor grunted an acknowledgement and watched as Sansa bid Littlefinger a good night and offered a curtsey. She had no choice but to follow Sandor as he wordlessly led a path to the brothel exit, once outside he gestured for her to walk ahead of him. She sought out his eyes, but he avoided her gaze. She started walking as a chilly breeze swept through the street and ruffled her hair.

"Little bird should put on her shawl" he said from behind her.

She nodded and started to arrange the fabric around her shoulders when a surprise gust of wind lifted the edge of the fabric and it fell away from her body. Sandor reached the end of the embroidered hem first and let the smooth fabric caress his rough skin as he replaced the fabric to drape over her slim form. He started to lift his hand away from her shoulder when she clapped her hand over his and trapped it between her body and hand.

He finally returned her probing gaze, "will you still..will I still…?" she started to say and kept trailing off to incoherency.

"Will I still what?" he asked his voice softening as her expression grew heavy with sadness.

"Will you still call me Little Bird after I become a whore like all the others?"


	4. Chapter 4

Sandor stared down at her with no words to fill the growing chasm of silence. His eyes moved over her expectant face and her slightly parted lips and rosy glow to her cheeks from the unaccustomed alcohol intake. Only her eyes revealed the fragile condition of her façade that she had so carefully constructed, her confidence in agreeing to working in Littlefinger's pleasure house and what her job entailed. She blinked her eyes as the alcohol curbed any anxiety she would normally have been feeling as she waited for him to answer.

He raised a hand and let his fingertips graze along her pink hued cheek. "You will never be a whore" he stated in a peculiarly somber tone and dropped his hand from her face.

Despite her level of intoxication she shot her hand out and gripped his wrist, he watched as she drew his hand closer to her body. "Won't I?" she asked in a voice stained with sadness as she gripped his hand harder.

"No, you will always be my little bird."

She smiled a demure smiled and lifted his hand to her lips and placed a soft kiss on each of his scarred knuckles. Her soft lips pressed against the ridged skin that stretched taut over the bones in his hand and he gave a sharp inhale.

"Will you accompany me back to my cage, please?" she asked with a giggle and squeezed his hand again before releasing it.

He gave a mock bow, "of course my lady."

While Sandor and Sansa returned to the castle, Littlefinger retired to his private quarters and poured a glass of strong liquor that was made across the Narrow Seas. The alcohol burned his throat as he swallowed the slightly green liquid. The secretly made liquor worked fast and he could feel his body want to relax.

He sat in one of his fabric covered cushions and closed his eyes and let his thoughts return to Lady Sansa Stark as she sat across from him earlier at dinner. While she had paid attention to Ros, Summer and Ivey he had been watching her and the rise and fall of her chest with her round breasts pushing against the seam of the gown.

He kept his eyes closed and took another burning swallow of the bitter and fiery alcohol. He set aside the now empty glass and let a hand drop to his laced breeches. He pictured the smooth expanse of skin across Sansa's pale chest, he wanted to run his tongue across the tip of her taut breasts and to the valley between them. He pulled at the laces and freed his hardening cock, he teased himself until he ached as he thought of pushing her skirts up past her hips and plunging his tongue into her warm center, followed up with his cock that was now straining to have its release. He whispered a name as he spilled his warm and sticky seed into his hand, she meant everything.

"Cat."

The night faded for Sansa as sleep quickly swept her up into its loving and warm unconditional embrace. Shae had helped her with her dress as Sansa giggled with the rush of sweet ale, she licked her lips and caught the taste of honey. She was asleep soon after her head settled into the pillow and she curled on her side.

Sandor had wished her good night and returned to his sparsely furnished room. A timid Lannister squire helped him with his mail and left him as soon as he could. Sandor slumped in a chair with a half empty wine skin and nursed the contents dry until he also slipped into sleep along with the rest of the castle.

The night bled into a slowly brightening day. Joffrey had risen before the first rays of sunlight hit King's Landing, Margery had also risen early as he had requested for this morning tryst. She fixed a smile on her face as Joffrey gave her a sloppy kiss, his tongue poked against her lips and she tried to feign enjoyment from his clumsy groping of her breasts.

They went to the dining hall after she was able to convince him she was feeling faint and probably needed something fresh and cool to drink. They sat in the dining hall as servants started a procession of trays for the young king.

Joffrey sighed in a loud voice when he was informed of people already arriving for an audience, he shook his head as names were listed and when "Lord Baelish" was announced he decided to give him a few moments since he had been helpful during the battle on Black Water Bay.

Littlefinger brushed away invisible lint from his tunic as his nerves rose on his way to the king and Lady Margery who were surrounded with platters of fresh summer fruits sliced into wedges.

Littlefinger cleared his throat after he had stood waiting in front of where Joffrey and Margery were sitting as the boy king only had eyes for Lady Margery as she bit into a juicy slice of ripe peach, he nearly salivated when the sweet nectar coated her lips. He ripped his eyes away from her and looked at Littlefinger with a certain amount of annoyance.

"Lord Baelish, what brings you here at such an early hour?" he asked with a slight edge to his voice. Littlefinger noted the tone in his voice as did Margery, she placed a hand on Joffrey's thigh under the linen napkin he had casually laid across his lap. He almost jumped when her hand settled on his leg and she gently squeezed her fingertips into his flesh.

Littlefinger could not see her hand under the table but noticed that Joffrey's mood was lightening and he grew more confident as he spoke.

"Your grace, you have surely been blessed to be betrothed to such a radiant maiden."

Joffrey looked over at Margery and his lips pulled back into a wide creepy grin as her hand slid up the inside of his thigh. He looked back to Littlefinger who took a deep breath and made his request.

"Since you have the love of such a beautiful woman who will bear you a league of heirs, I imagine you will have no need for Lady Stark. I would like to acquire ownership of her and place her under my employment."

Littlefinger's words hung in the air as Joffrey processed the request. He wanted to open his mouth and deny it, he had full intention of Sansa carrying his bastards until she had no more use or stopped being pretty. He frowned and before he could speak against the request, Margery leaned close to him and whispered into his ear. He felt her warm breath brush across his skin and the light press of her lips. She reiterated the promise of her words by moving her hand to his stiffening manhood. "Your grace, I will make you forget the existence of Sansa Stark. I give you my entire body, I don't want her in these halls."

Joffrey cleared his throat at the combination of her words, touch and lavender scent. "Lady Margery is wise as well as beautiful" he started, "take the Stark bitch today. I don't want to see her in these halls again after the sun sets."

Littlefinger bowed deeply, "thank you your grace. Thank you also Lady Margery."

She nodded with a knowing sort of glint in her eyes and Joffrey dismissed him with a limp-wristed wave. Littlefinger could barely contain his glee as he left the dining hall. He followed the hall that led to Sansa's chambers. While he practically skipped to her room, Lady Margery also left the dining hall after a few more hushed promises to her betrothed. She found his voice, face and breath repugnant but she had plans and would have to play a part she hated for awhile. She had seen Sansa's pale and drawn face and open fear, she knew she would have a better chance at life away from the young swine king. She pulled a small glass vial from a fabric pouch as she headed to Joffrey's chambers.

The young king was out in the courtyard which left his chambers open and unattended. She knew if she was discovered she could always play the part of the blushing maiden daydreaming of the man who would impale her maidenhood. She also knew though that if Joffrey was the one who found her she would have to suffer his touch and taste again. She quickly crossed the room to his various carafes and dumped half the contents of the dark brown liquid into the wines and ales, a wicked smile filled her face as she thought of what the now fatal alcohol would do to Joffrey's insides. She closed her eyes as she imagined him vomiting his internal organs in a pungent pool of filth and blackened blood. She was out of the room as fast as she had appeared there, the only evidence was a rapidly diminishing lavender aroma.

As Lady Margery went to her own new chambers which were spacious and airy with flowing silk and satin bedding, Littlefinger was arriving at Sansa's door. He knocked a few short taps and heard two female voices from the other side of the door.

Shae appeared as she opened the door and her face went into an immediate scowl when she saw him.

He tilted his head, "it's good you're already here, you can help Lady Sansa pack her belongings."

Shae's present frown deepened and her accent grew more prominent as her anger grew.

"Where is she going?" she asked with a hiss.

Littlefinger's grin grew more devious and he pushed past her, "Lady Stark, his grace has given order for you to be out of the castle by the time the sun sets today. Ros is waiting to help you unpack and welcome you to your new home" he said with a proud smile.

Sansa stood and nodded with a sad smile, she looked around her quarters and grew overwhelmed with emotion at the drastic change her life was about to take.

Shae rushed to her side as she sat on a plush chair and covered her face with her hands as large tears rolled down her cheeks. Littlefinger hated tears and feminine moments like that, they caused faces to become ugly, red and swollen and that resulted in a loss of revenue. He cleared his throat and squatted down in front of Sansa as Shae brushed her hair back from her flushed forehead.

"Sansa" he started and tried to remember her mother and the love he held for her. "You will have some time to learn the craft and customs and settle in before you need to start working, I want you to be comfortable and confident in your alluring beauty and enticing innocence."

Sansa looked up at Littlefinger then, her cheeks flushed and her eyes red. He gripped one of her hands with both of his and squeezed lightly. "You are a rare gem, valuable and perfect, not just anyone will be allowed to look at you, let alone touch you" he said as his warm hands pressed around her pale and chilly hand.

"If these tears are from fear of being possessed by a man upon leaving here, trust me to take care of you and to know when you are ready."

Sansa nodded and sniffed as Shae held her tongue, she wanted to shake Sansa and tell her she was crazy for going anywhere with Littlefinger, let alone work for him. But she knew Sansa's fate at the castle was as a whore for Joffrey until he tired of her or she delivered female babies.

She helped Sansa stand and the two of them packed the gowns and baubles that she had amassed in her chambers.

The two women were folding silken small clothes and linen shifts when Littlefinger addressed a new arrival. Both girl's turned to the person in the doorway that Littlefinger spoke to.

"Lady Sansa will need some assistance with her belongings, would you be able to manage that?" he asked with a rare amount of healthy fear in his voice.

Sandor gave a wordless nod as he walked in the now bare looking chambers and hefted up all the belongings for the former Lady Sansa Stark who was soon to become quite the valuable and coveted commodity.

Littlefinger's thoughts twisted his face into a reptilian leer as he calculated the gold he could earn for auctioning off the taking of her innocence to the highest bidder. Sandor's thoughts were which would be the most enjoyable way to end Littlefinger's life, he let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips as he thought Littlefinger would probably cry at the first drop of spilled blood from his blade.

Shae gave Sansa a big hug, she whispered in Sansa's ear before watching her leave the chambers. "Be true to the Stark wolf inside of you, I will be in touch." Sansa smiled gratefully and followed Littlefinger from her former chambers, Sandor followed at a close distance, his arms full of Sansa's belongings. His senses were assaulted with each of his footsteps as her clothing and shawls all bore the light and intoxicating scent that followed in her wake.

Sansa's breath slowed as she neared the brothel that was to become her home. Littlefinger held the door open for her and she crossed the threshold to enter into his employment. Sandor followed as Littlefinger led the way to a warm tan and burgundy room, he was already apologizing as she wouldn't be able to have a private room quite yet but she would be sharing a room with Ros.

Sandor deposited her clothing and toiletries to the floor of the room that was softly lit with short red candles. He realized that he would have to part her company now, he had no excuse to continuing standing under the brothel roof. He turned to leave and heard Littlefinger excuse himself from Sansa's presence and was soon at Sandor's side.

He led Sandor out into the hall away from Sansa and Ros's room. "Thank you for your assistance, perhaps you would like to redeem your free….ride, I have a few girls that like to get on their hands and knees" he said with a wink.

Sandor grunted, "how about the young wolf?"

Littlefinger's eyes widened, "unfortunately Sansa is not subject to those terms. I believe she will be out of your price range."

Sandor stared down at the much smaller man, he pulled out the bag of gold dragons he had received as reward for battle prowess. Littlefinger looked at the glittering gold in Sandor's large palm.

"I'm sorry my friend, I will be hosting a large dinner and auction. You are welcome to come and place a bet, perhaps luck will be with you and you'll get to pluck that delicate flower."

Sandor clenched his jaws, he was tempted to run the rodent of a man clean through right on the floor of his sex house but restrained himself. His blood boiled when he thought of his little bird on an auction block, subject to whomever had the most gold.

"When?" Sandor asked in an empty tone.

"In one month's time. She is going to be trained in such a way to make any man sign his entire fortune and life over to me in order to spread her thighs and bury their cock deep inside her."

Sandor felt a calm wash over him that was eerily similar to the emptiness that occurred during the peak of battle and loss of limb and life. He replaced the gold in its pouch and declined Littlefinger's offer of ale or wine.

When he left the brothel, he left Sansa behind with Ros who had been charged with being her mentor and coach in the way of sensual dance, music and conversation. For one month's time she would learn how to pleasure a man and would observe Ros as well as other girls like Ivey and Summer as they pleasured men until they spilled their seed across their bellies, chests or thighs.

Sandor had one month's time to acquire as much golden dragons and silver stags that he could in hopes of winning her away from a night of pain and suffering. He did not know how far Littlefinger planned on spreading the word of the fiery haired maiden he had acquired. Sandor also didn't know that Ser Meryn was also planning on scouring as much gold and silver he could so that he could live out his fantasy of taking her body for the first time.


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of the day Sansa was able to spend resting her eyes under warm cloths and aromatic herbal teas to urge relaxation.

Sansa reclined on a plush cushion as Ros rubbed a strong smelling oil into her hands and wrists. As she massaged Sansa's smooth hands she offered small talk about nothing relevant in nature. They both giggled when Ros said that Joffrey didn't have much below the waist when she had touched his breeches, she also said she wasn't sure he was quite sure how to use it.

For the first few days following Sansa's arrival her and Ros were inseparable. They stayed up into the early hours of the morning giggling and snacking on delicacies and sweet confectionaries. Ros made sure Sansa's relaxation was constant by never allowing her wine mug to be empty. In between conversation about siblings and parents and childhood, Ros would tell her the rules of working under Lord Baelish's roof.

Sansa was instantly intrigued with the idea of receiving a weekly salary of sorts, according to Ros she received a percentage of all money made at the expense of her body. Ros gave her a gentle smile when Sansa asked what she should do with the money she earned.

"You could buy exotic silk dresses, or books about Knights and lovely maidens" she giggled "or," she said as she leaned forward and dropped her voice even though they were alone. "You could buy passage to the Free Cities and never work for anyone again."

Ros leaned back as Sansa processed her words, she nodded slowly as she remembered what Cersei had said about tears not being a woman's only weapon.

"Could I make a lot of money, really fast?" she asked her voice heavy with excitement.

Ros nodded as she refilled both of their wine mugs. "You could probably make enough money to leave a rich woman in a month's time" she said laughing and sipping at the sweet Dornish wine.

"Then I want to start tonight" Sansa said as she rose up from the bed.

Ros laughed and shook her head and put Sansa's full wine cup in her hand. "We have a lot to talk about before then" she said with a wicked grin.

In the days that Ros and Sansa giggled and talked about everything under the sun and moon, Sandor's anger and agitation grew on an almost hourly basis. His squire's jumped if he so much as cleared his throat in their direction. They were afraid the fire that was burning behind his eyes would incinerate them if they angered him.

On the third night of Sansa's absence from the castle Sandor walked to what were her chambers which now stood empty except for a bed frame, bureau and bathing tub. He closed and latched the door and inhaled deep, his chest expanding under his tunic and dull metal mail. He wanted her scent but couldn't find it in the air. He growled and punched the wall as he thought of his little bird working in Littlefinger's pleasure house, he knew how he was with woman at such places. He had never looked past their tits or cunt before, he paid his money to have a good fuck and that was it. He drank from the wine skin he had brought with him, the alcohol was bolstering his confidence.

He closed his hand around the hilt of his sword and walked at a brisk pace towards Littlefinger's pleasure house where Sansa and Ros were continuing to talk about the rules of the house. Sansa was oblivious to all of the noise and commotion outside of their room, Ros however knew that people were being hurt outside of the their room.

Sandor was nearing the brothel when he heard a guttural cry fill the air followed by the meaty slap of a body hitting the dry and dusty ground.

His awareness heightened as he recognized a fellow Kingsguard who explained that several men had been caught trying to break in to violate the fiery haired maiden that Littlefinger had hidden away. Sandor cursed under his breath when he heard the large amount of security that Littlefinger had hired to protect Sansa's virtue until the time of auction when she would make him a lot of money that night and every night after on her back, side or face down on the mattress.

Sandor's hands closed into fists as a man limped out of the brothel with a broken arm after he tried to climb the stairs that led to the room where Ros and Sansa were. The man who lost his life had ignored the warnings issued by the new guards and found his heart ceased to beat as his head was taken from his shoulders.

Sandor knew that he might be able to fight his way through most of the hired guards but he didn't have a plan on how to get out of the city and he only had the gold in the pouch, he would need more to escape and be truly free. He turned the other way and went to the busy tavern to drain glass after glass of the sharp and numbing ale, his mind was furious and he gripped the mug until his knuckles turned white. He wanted to hurt something, to make someone's blood flow.

After two full mugs he became aware of the hushed conversation between the two well dressed merchants next to him. They were discussing an upcoming auction by Lord Baelish that promised captivating innocence and alluring beauty. Sandor clenched his jaw as he turned and continued to listen to the two wealthy men discuss Sansa like she was a commodity. "I heard she has a tight highborn cunt too, I will gladly call her my lady as I fuck her in every hole."

His anger swelled until he was certain his skin would split from tension, he listened as the conversation tapered to other topics and then the man who had done the most talking excused himself to check on a shipment of bolts of raw silk. Sandor tossed some coins on the bar and followed the wealthy merchant out of the tavern and towards the harbor.

Sandor watched as the man took a side street to relieve himself behind a scraggly tree with sad looking leaves. He walked down the same street and pulled a sharp and curved blade out of a leather sheath and whistled to get the rich man's well dressed attention.

The merchant turned with a sneer which was soon replaced with a look of open fear and his bladder released the rest of its hot contents all over his fuchsia and gold satin robes as Sandor swung his blade upward and buried it in his groin to his upper bowels, skewering his manhood upon entrance.

The merchant opened his mouth to shriek but instead fell with a lifeless plop as Sandor broke his neck in a quick and efficient manner. He was irritated that he couldn't have made it last a while longer, sometimes the begging was fun to hear but he didn't want to attract attention. He moved his hands through the lavish robes and pulled two sacks of coins free, he pocketed the contents as well as plucking the necklaces and rings from the sweaty neck and pudgy finger before he pulled his blade free of the pungent intestines. The flesh sucked at the steel edge as he removed it from the warm sack of flesh.

Sandor moved back in the direction of the castle with the goal of his room where he planned to drink until he could barely crawl in between the covers. He was maneuvering through the various merchant stalls that boasted baubles from across the Narrow Seas and delectable silks that felt like they might melt under too much heat. He passed a stall with a sickly girl leaning on a crutch next to her mother. The table in front of them was lined with small statues of animals and winged insects, Sandor was about to continue past them when a small figure caught his eye.

On the corner of the rickety table was a small figure of a bird with red feathers and brightly painted blue eyes. The bird was sitting on a branch that was budding with small white flowers, Sandor pulled out a coin without looking at it and threw it on the table. He scooped up the bird and continued to the castle. He turned around when he felt a timid hand grip his elbow, he turned with a fierce scowl to the woman who ran the stall. Her eyes were wide and she explained in a heavily accented voice that he had paid too much and he saw that she was holding a gleaming gold dragon.

He felt his face soften and he gave a quick look around and dropped another gold dragon into her calloused and rough palm from a lifetime of work. He walked away before the tears that threatened to fall followed through on their promise.

While Sandor returned to his Keep and began to drink himself into a tumultuous oblivion, Littlefinger was sitting with Ros in one of the empty pleasure rooms. This room was done in shades of green and ivory, billowy linen was spread across a wide bed and was currently occupied by Ros and Littlefinger perched on its edge.

When Littlefinger had checked on the girls he had found Sansa asleep on a wine and ale cloud of dreamless sleep and Ros massaging oil into her upper arms and shoulders. He had beckoned her to the other room to inquire on Sansa and how she was adapting to her new room and life.

Ros said all was okay, she couldn't be sure all that Littlefinger might have heard and she knew lying would be a greater penalty.

She relaxed when he smiled and said that he wanted her to continue with teaching various styles of dancing and have her choose a musical instrument to learn to play. He strongly suggested an instrument that she would have to use in some part with sound production from her pursed and wet lips. He let Ros return to the shared room with Sansa as made a round on his other girls that made him money in half hour increments.

By the time Littlefinger returned to his chambers, Sandor was slumped in a deep and drunken stupor with the purchased bird figurine sitting in solitary delicacy on the unused fireplace mantle. Sansa continued to sleep in a similar state in the room with Ros. He folded his hands behind his head as he looked at a couple letters he had received penned in an anticipating script about needing lodging and food as they intended on bidding on the flaming haired maiden whose smooth body would be up for sale.

In the royal chambers Joffrey prepared for bed, one of his many golden haired squires poured him a full glass of rich Dornish wine. The boy king drained half the glass before setting it aside, his thoughts ran to Lady Margery and the enticing shapes the mounds of her breasts made under the thin fabric of her pale peach gown. He took a few more small sips off the carved goblet before slipping under the silken covers. He finished the last of the wine and rolled on his side and let his mind entertain ways of relieving Margery's breasts from behind the satin gown.

Night blanketed the castle as Ser Meryn retired to his quarters and spread all of his earthly money on a finely crafted but nondescript table. He felt his hands grow more eager as the amount of money he counted grew higher, he spent nearly every waking moment imagining how he would tear Sansa's clothes away in small ribbons until she was as naked as her name day. He was barely able to articulate what he would do once that had occurred.

The next day brought a headache for Sansa and Ros with a pot of tea stepped in boiling water. She had a large woven basket of musical instruments with her and while Sansa sipped the tea, Ros laid out the various instruments and expressed the importance of being able to sing, dance and play music.

Ros had brought instruments that Sansa would put her lips on and put the rest away when she chose the clarinet. While Ros and Sansa discussed the value of music equating to revenue, Sandor awoke with the twin headache of Sansa's and waited impatiently for the squire to finish lacing his mail before he headed to seek out a particular hand maiden with bronze skin and a fiery temper.

While Sandor sought out Shae, Joffrey awoke to cramps across his lower belly and a wet sounding cough. He stumbled from his covers and fell to his knees as a hot knife of pain seared deep into his guts. He mewed a pitiful cry as his bowels released and his royal silk small clothes were soon filled with congealed blood clots and partially digested waste, a foul stench filled the air around the boy king who began to cry out for help in between gasps of pain.

Back at the brothel the music lesson continued as Joffrey's bowels began to slough apart and his organs liquefied.

Sansa sighed in frustration as she still couldn't produce coherent sound from silver clarinet. "I can 't do it" she said and dropped the instrument to the floor.

Ros patted her shoulder and demonstrated the same three note song again as she had been for the last two hours. She stopped playing when she had a different approach for teaching, "just pretend it is a man and how you would run your hands along his body."

She realized the further extent of Sansa's innocence when the bright blush filled her face. "I have a better idea" she whispered and went and opened the door. The closest Sell Sword that Littlefinger had hired turned to the enchanting Ros in the doorway.

"Come here" she whispered, "I'd like to show you something" she said as she let her gown slip and a pale breast peek around the fabric.

The dark haired man with green eyes took a tentative step in the doorway and took pause when he saw Sansa on the bed.

"She is not to be touched, she is only watching. That is okay with you isn't it? If she watches?" Ross asked in a husky tone as she pushed the nameless Sell Sword onto his back and moved her hands in an efficient fashion across his breeched laces. She freed his rapidly hardening cock and spoke to Sansa while her lips hovered millimeters from the tip of his growing length.

"Don't be too gentle yet close your lips around the end" she said as she demonstrated her words. Sansa's eyes grew wide as Ros instructed and produced a melody of moans from the randomly hired guard who arched his hips to meet Ros's lips.

Sansa covered her mouth as Ros moved her breasts over the man's rigid manhood and was shocked when a stream of pearlescent liquid spilled from the man's body along with a satisfied moan from his mouth. Ros looked over and gave Sansa a lazy smile as the man's spilled seed dripped off the tip of her taut pink nipple.

"When you play," she said as the man laced his breeches and hurried from the room, "you want the man to be thinking about that when he looks at your mouth and listens to the music you produce."

Sansa nodded and looked away as Ros wiped away the man's seed with a swatch of silk. She laughed when she saw Sansa's shyness peeking out.

"Soon I will show you what to make him think when you are dancing and swaying your hips back and forth" she said as she winked and adjusted the straps of her gown.


	6. Chapter 6

Joffrey's voice was cut off by blood climbing his esophagus letting only a wet gurgling sound fall from the boy king's lips. He choked hard and spit out a thick clot of dark blood. He started to crawl towards the chamber doors which were closed, he knew there would be several Kingsguard on the other side of the door.

He hacked until he felt a tearing deep inside his belly and he curled on his side as he sucked in air when his throat cleared for a moment. Tears rained from his eyes and he managed a strangled cry before he felt a hot trickle of blood start to leak from his left nostril. He spit more blood onto the floor and wheezed out a plea for help before another burning line of pain opened up inside his bowels, he lost control of his bladder and hot urine splashed down his royal thighs.

The chamber door flew open and two members of the glorious white cloaked Kingsguard rushed into the room. They drew their swords as they saw Joffrey gasping and looking fish belly white in a pool of bright Lannister blood that was starting to grow sticky around the edges.

As the Kingsguard men shouted out for help when they discovered the room to be empty except for the child king whose breathing was slowing down, Cersei was nestled in her nest of silken linen. A pounding at the door pulled her from sleep and she swam out of her dreams bleary eyed and confused.

She looked around and finally realized she had been awoken by someone at her door. She stumbled out of bed and across the room while she pulled an embroidered satin robe around her body. A blonde haired Kingsguard stood outside her door. "What?!" she stated with irritation forcing her beautiful face into a frown.

"Forgive me, the king is hurt" he stated, overcome for a second at her natural beauty with her hair loose and flowing around her face.

"What of my son?" she asked in a hurry and knotted the belt of her robe as she started in the direction of Joffrey's chambers at a near run. She couldn't shake the uncanny resemblance between this nameless Kingsguard and Jamie. He followed and kept his mouth shut, he had only glimpsed over a shoulder at Joffrey as he lay gasping on the floor.

All he had seen was blood.

Cersei pushed through the Kingsguard gathered at Joffrey's doors and found the Maester next to her golden haired son was laying on his back in a puddle of blood that had taken an oblong form. Cersei fell to her knees next to Joffrey whose chest was hitching as his breath was nearing a state of nonexistence. She watched as Pycelle opened Joffrey's mouth and looked up his nose, both which continued to leak blood.

Cersei pulled Joffrey half onto her lap and Pycelle's hands fluttered around her arms that embraced her son. Joffrey looked up at her and they shared a gaze for a small moment, he opened his mouth to speak and only sputtered a small final geyser of blood before she watched his eyes glaze over.

He was gone.

Cersei let her eyes fall closed as she saw her son's life was gone. She took a deep breath and held it inside her chest for a few heartbeats. She let go of her son and his blood soaked lifeless form slid off her satin encased knees and she rose without a need for any assistance.

She waved off any conversation with Pycelle and the Kingsguard parted to make an exit for her. She walked past the men and paused to look over at the golden and clean shaven Kingsguard that had woken her, they shared a glance and then she walked away to her chambers, flanked by her many handmaidens who had been pulled from their morning duties and sent to be at the queen regent's side. He longed to run after her but turned his attention back to the now dead king and awaited his next instructions.

While Tywin Lannister had been sent for as well as the other members of the council, Sansa and Ros slept heavily in their soft feather beds with the alcohol keeping them deep in their respective dreams. In her dream Sansa was running through the cold woods that were thick with bare trees, their thin and skeletal branches reached out and tried to pull her hair and at the fabric of her gown and cloak.

She was laughing in her dreams as she felt herself being wrapped up in a strong embrace, the sweet smell of him filling her nose and making her lower body tingle until she clenched her thighs together. She awoke to shouting and noise outside of her and Ros's room, she yawned and stretched out and tapped on Ros's elbow.

While Sansa tapped on Ros's elbow and the shoulder, Sandor awoke stretched out on his mattress. He groaned as pain filled his head and he yelled at the person knocking on the other side of the door. He walked heavily to the door and ripped it open. "What? Speak gods damn you!" he shouted to the wide eyed squire that helped the boy king dress.

"My lord, please ser, the king is hurt. You are needed" the boy stammered.

Sandor pulled on some of his mail and secured his sword and other weaponry accoutrements. He pushed past the boy that was still struggling to articulate a coherent statement.

"Save your words boy, I'm neither a ser or a lord."

The boy nodded in stone silence as Sandor moved towards the boy king's chambers. While he made his way there, Ros rubbed her eyes when Sansa's timid touch pulled her from a dream of freedom from earning money though fake gasps and sighs of pleasure. She crossed the room and opened the door when the noise level increased in the halls. Sansa watched as Ros left and seemed to take forever to return, when she did her eyes were wide and bright and she looked ready to burst with the unspoken.

"Sansa you'll never believe it, that fucking pig king is dead."

Sansa felt her mouth fall open as Ros continued in a frantic and hyper voice, "I heard he shit his royal smallclothes too" she added as she laughed.

Ros trailed off when Sansa covered her mouth and remained in silence. "Sansa are you okay?"

Sansa nodded before speaking, "I'm so happy I can 't even say" she said clapping her hands together.

Ros felt a rush of relief and skipped across the room and threw her arms around Sansa. The girls giggled together as Ros whispered the rest of her exciting news.

"Little….I mean Lord Baelish was summoned to a meeting of the council, that mean's he'll be gone all day and we can go to the market and buy honey wine and chocolate."

"How will we get out with all the guards?" Sansa asked her brow creasing in worry but her excitement rising at the prospect of getting outside.

"There are other ways out of here" Ros said with a sly grin and revealed a small opening that led to a small wooden ladder. Sansa watched Ros descend the ladder and called down for her, "won't the guards check on us?" she asked with worry evident in her voice.

"I asked the other girl's to cover" she said from the bottom of the ladder. Sansa couldn't see her face but she knew Ros threw a wink up from the dim, she followed the same path and the two girl's pulled on dull woolen cloaks and emerged in the bright street with offerings from the world of the past to jewel encrusted rings and glass baubles.

Sansa and Ros were oblivious to the approaching Kingsguard who were on their way to escort Lord Baelish to the emergent meeting of the council. Two white cloaked Kingsguard approached the brothel entrance, Ser Meryn was one of the royal escorts. He saw Sansa and Ros pull their cloaks up over their heads and blend in with the bustling crowd.

He turned to his fellow Kingsguard and instructed him to follow through and bring Lord Baelish to the castle, he offered the excuse of seeking out people to interrogate for information on the king's death which he believed in as a murder. There were no accidental elements in the boy king's blood soaked demise.

Meryn followed the two girl's and watched from afar as Sansa laughed and giggled with the whore from Littlefinger's pleasure house. He watched as the girl's bought heavy carved mugs of honey wine and he felt his cock twitch when Sansa licked the spilled sticky wine from her fingertips. He followed them as they looked at golden and silver jeweled bracelets and jade ear cuffs with long gold chains, he pulled a small dagger from his waist and approached the girl's when the crowd thinned out and they were near an empty alleyway that housed brined root vegetables and burlap sacks of grains.

While Meryn closed in on the unsuspecting girl's who were nibbling the edges of flaky pastry with a chocolate filling, Sandor was down in Pycelle chamber's watching him examine Joffrey's cooling body. The Maester had wrapped the juvenile Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms in Lannister colored linen and asked Sandor to carry the corpse.

Sandor had scooped up the dead child king, the body was finishing with its process of stiffening and the arms and legs were very difficult to bend without the risk of breaking bones and tearing ligaments. He had followed the shuffling Maester and watched as he stripped the body of its matted clothing that was stuck to the pale flesh with congealed clumps of flesh and tissue.

Once he had the body exposed he went through a through process of examining the cooling form that grew darker and darker from the settling blood as the examination proceeded to an invasive autopsy.

While Pycelle cut into the remaining organs housed in Joffrey's flaccid abdominal cavity, Sansa felt the edge of a cold blade tuck itself under her chin and a strong hand on the back of her neck through the thick woolen cloak. A low whisper next to her ear stopped the cry that wanted to fall from her lips.

"Not a single sound Lady Sansa or I will cut your tongue out right here and worse for your cunt friend" he spoke in his weasel sounding tone, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips like an ageless reptile. Ros's eyes grew wide as she recognized the cloak and saw the thin blade pressed to Sansa's pale throat. Ros swallowed hard as the man nodded his chin in the direction of the makeshift storage alley.

While Ros slowly moved to the alley she was careful to not make any sudden moves with the dagger so perilously close to the large veins in Sansa's neck that would mean the end of her life if one or more was severed.

At the castle in Pycelle's chambers, he let out a cry of victory and pointed to a small portion inside Joffrey's body that Sandor leaned in close to see, squinting at where the Maester was pointing a twisted and wrinkled finger. "There, do you see it?" he asked with a giddy tone to his voice. Sandor looked at the bloody gaping maw that Joffrey's midsection had become and over to Pycelle, he shook his head.

Once in the alley, Meryn directed Ros to stand by a barrel and told Sansa he was going to remove the blade from her throat but if she screamed he would skewer her right eyeball after removing her tongue and then fuck her friend with the bloody blade. Sansa nodded and let out a breath when the blade fell away from her neck. "Please Ser" she started to say until her words were cut off by Meryn spinning her towards him and grabbing and pulling the cloak off her thin shoulders.

He pointed the blade at Ros, "get on the ground, don't move."

Ros nodded and dropped heavily to the ground as Meryn turned his attention back to Sansa where she stood shivering in the warm morning. He smiled, his lips pulling back revealing yellowed canines and graying gums. "Let's see what you've learned Lady Stark" he said drawing out each syllable.

Sansa looked over to Ros as Meryn started to tug at her gown.

"She's been doing so well at our pleasure house Ser, she really took to playing instruments" Ros said from her place on the ground which drew Meryn's eyes to her.

"Shut up whore, you will spread your legs next" he spit and looked back at Sansa who had dropped her eyes as Meryn closed the distance between them. She let her eyes fall closed to small slits until she caught the movement of Ros's hands on the dirt alleyway. She took a deep breath when she felt her gown rip under Meryn's hands and felt her eyes widen when she saw Ros reach under the hem of her gown and revealed a thin dagger with a jewel covered hit on her calf.

Sansa almost felt her lips pull into a smile when she thought of the moment when Shae had flashed a blade she kept strapped to her smooth thigh.

"Yes Ser," she said raising her eyes and dropping her hands to his laced breeches. She thanked every god ever to have been in existence when her light touch kept his hands frozen at his side.

"I've learned how to please, now I can please you" she purred as she pulled on the laces with deliberate and painful slowness. She was careful to keep her eyes off of Ros who pulled the blade out of the leather sheath trying to keep as silent as she was capable.

Meryn's cock swelled against his breeches and Sansa had to fight to not rip her hand away when she felt the hardening under her fingertips as they manipulated the laces.

"Get on with it" he demanded and thrust his hips forward so that his arousal brushed against her hand.

"You can 't rush pleasure Ser," she whispered and placed her palm against his body and squeezed lightly until he nearly moaned. Sansa pulled the laces loose and watched his hardened cock seem to spring from the breeches. She struggled to not move back and instead let her fingertips brush along his firm flesh until his cock twitched twice against her hand and then started to deflate and grow empty and flaccid.

Sansa looked up and saw Meryn's open mouth in a silent "O" as Ros moved the blade deeper into his neck until she had severed the life giving and taking veins in his deviant flesh.

He fell to his mailed knees in a pile of blood stained metal.

While Meryn's body finished bleeding on the dirt ground, Sandor listened as Pycelle stated that the boy king had been poisoned by an exotic floral extract that caused everything internal to essentially liquefy and spill out of any available hole. It was usually consumed in wine or honey ale since it was sweet to the taste and alcohol paired nicely with its flavor without masking its deadly effectiveness.

While Ros calmly cleaned the blade and replaced it on her smooth leg, Sandor was listening as Pycelle listed the places the poison could have come from. Cersei sat in her chambers alone, she had dismissed all of her handmaidens and had them leave her a full carafe of wine and mug.

She sighed when a soft knocking came at the door, "I told you to leave."

She stood and slammed down her glass when the knocking persisted, she opened the door with her face set in a cold stare, ready to shout and call for anyone's head on a spike. Her words stuck in her throat when she opened the door to the sun kissed hair and blue eyed Kingsguard who was still anonymous in name to her.

She cleared her throat and pushed aside the renewed thought of how much he looked like Jamie. "What do you want?" she asked with an almost empty voice.

"The council is convening to discuss the matter of his gra…your son's death" he said and dropped his gaze from her eyes to her high cheekbones, reddened lips and slim neck.

Cersei felt the promise in the weight of his gaze and stepped aside to grant him wordless access. He walked in her chambers, looking around to the bed where the queen laid her head for the night.

She watched the man who even moved with the dancing grace Jamie possessed walk around her spacious chambers, "would you like some wine ser?"

He nodded his head as she found another empty glass and poured him a full cup, "sit, drink" she said and set the glass on the table.

As he sat in one of the royal chairs and sank into its soft invitation, she licked a few drops of wine from the rim of her cup before taking a long break. She laughed when she saw the still nameless knight's expression. "What? Did you want to lick the wine from my glass?" she asked with an almost girly lilt to her voice. He shook his head as his eyes took on a dangerous hunger. "I'd like to lick it off you" he said in a voice that made her cunt tighten when she used to think of marrying a knight and being adored the rest of her life.

"Can I call you Jamie?" she whispered almost dropping her glass with anticipation as she felt a rush of wetness to her womanhood.

"You can call me anything you want your grace" he said and stood. She splashed some of the wine against the exposed skin of her chest and tops of her breasts and whispered Jamie's name as the knight lowered his mouth to her chest and eventually they both ended up in her bed and the knight of the Kingsguard got to sleep in the same bed with the queen regent.


	7. Chapter 7

Lord Baelish waited in the council room for the other members to arrive. He had a nagging thought to check on his newest employee with the fiery hair but was also wondering how the young king had died and by whose hand.

On the other side of the castle Maester Pycelle said the poison used on the boy king was often referred to as a woman's poison and was popular among the highborn women of Highgarden.

Sandor looked over at Pycelle, "Lady Margery?"

While Pycelle gave the barest of nods, Sandor knew the Maester would be eager to whisper that information into Cersei's royal ear.

"Keep that knowledge to yourself" Sandor growled to the Master and let his hand causally fall to embrace the hilt of his lethal long sword. Pycelle cleared his throat nervously and tried to maintain a semblance of stoicism under Sandor's empty stare.

Under his robes, his bladder twinged and threatened to release hot urine down his wrinkled and pasty colored thighs.

"Yes of course, my lord" Pycelle stammered as he backed up to the door.

"I'm no lord, just keep your fucking mouth shut" Sandor growled.

Pycelle nodded, his head bobbing like a newborn blind baby bird. He gave an awkward bow and excused himself to hurry to the council.

Cersei was sleeping in the arms of the young blonde knight, she stirred and listened to his heart beating in his strong chest. She knew she should get to the council but the knight who looked so much like Jamie had a beautiful and inviting body and she wanted to stay in his arms until her real Jamie returned to her. She knew she could find comfort in the arms of this knight and that he could make her moans of passion be genuine, he filled and stretched her cunt like Jamie did.

Her woman's place bled honey thick nectar as she thought of his body plunging in and out of her, the slap of his flesh against hers made her close her eyes fall close. She sought those moans as she decided to skip attendance to the council and instead slid her hand down the front of his body until she made his cock hard with need.

After the Maester departed, Sandor looked down at the boy king's now cold body. His gaping abdomen was full of black blood that had started to coagulate and turned his bowels into a soft mush. Sandor could see dark chunks of the child king's liver poking up in a brilliant green pool of bile. He thought of the stew he had been served as a child that had large uneven chunks of purple potatoes alongside stringy pieces of venison.

Sandor walked away from the past juvenile leader of the Seen Kingdoms and examined the contents of Pycelle's shelves and veritable cornucopia of glass jars that held a myriad of opaque powders and dark pungent liquids.

Sandor plucked a bottle of Milk of the Poppy from the shelf and slipped it into his mail. Sometimes the bloated wine skins didn't help him sleep all the way through the night and a few drops of the sweet and stick poppy liquid soothed his ragged senses and aching knee joint that bothered him when the temperature dropped at night.

Before he left the boy king alone in the dim room with no dignity to the eviscerated corpse, he checked the pockets for any gold or silver. He slipped his fingers through the fabric folds, feeling the cold flesh of Joffrey's flanks and chest under his seeking fingertips. He found a few coins in the child king's clothes and left the room, slipping the silver to rest against the glass bottle of the sweet and heady narcotic syrup.

At the council Lord Baelish pressed Pycelle for details about the autopsy and how Joffrey had been murdered. Pycelle kept replaying the visual of Sandor's hand closing around the cared steel hilt of his sword, he repeated to the small council that it could be any number of poisons and that he would simply need more time with the body to identify the poison and its introduction to the young king's body.

Petyr Baelish frowned, he was not satisfied with the Maester's answer but kept it to himself as he hurried back to his pleasure house to check on his newest employee of wanton whispers and undulating flesh.

He passed through the busy marketplace, weaving through every type of person on his way to the warm and inviting brothel. He glimpsed two women at the rear of the marketing exiting a dim alleyway, his eyes narrowed as he saw flaming red tendrils of hair peeking around a woven shawl. He stepped up his pace and brushed people out of his way as he ended up nearly running to the women that were moving out of the marketplace and into the bustling outskirts of the castle walls disappearing into a red curtained store front.

While Petyr closed the distance between himself and the girl's, Sandor moved at a quick pace through the castle looking for the lovely Margery Tyrell. He found her in the courtyard in a dark gown with her hair held back by several moonstone encrusted clips. She glanced over as the metallic melody of his mail announced his presence before she saw him. She wasn't worried, she assumed that since he allowed her to hear his approach he didn't mean to kill her.

"My lady" Sandor rasped and she glanced again over her shoulder at him.

"Yes" she said in a soft tone and looked down at her slim fingers tipped with pink nail beds.

"Will you be safe here, do you need help leaving after your little indiscretion?" he asked with a combination of amusement and concern tainting each syllable.

Her eyes widened slightly at his question and turned towards him, he saw why even the swine king was captivated by her.

"I will be fine" she said and gave a small curtsey before adding with a low whisper and pulling a small pouch from the folds of her gown. "Thank you for your concern," she said placing the sewn rough fabric bag into his hand and added. "Thank you also for your continued silence on this matter."

He nodded and she walked away from him, leaving the tantalizing aroma of roses in the air around him. He bounced the fabric pouch in his hands feeling the weight from the currency inside. He squeezed his hand into a fist around the bag, feeling the dull bite of the coins against the palm of his hand as he thought of his little bird under the weight of some sweaty wealthy merchant. He clenched his teeth as he thought of the slimy Littlefinger selling her spread thighs to the highest bidder.

While Sandor returned to his quarters in the Keep to drop off his newly acquired acquisition of coins and sleep aid, :Littlefinger caught up with the two disguised women and his hand snaked out and gripped the flesh of the upper arm of the closest girl.

He yanked the girl around, her girlish squeal reaching his ears as he focused on Ros's now frightened features. "My lord" she gasped up at Littlefinger with a breathless and broken voice.

"My dear why are you so far away from home?" Littlefinger asked with his lips pulled into a grim line, his mind seethed as her eyes darted wildly until Sansa's musical voice spoke from where she was rooted in place behind Ros.

"Oh please, this is all my fault. I wanted to buy you a gift for your hospitality, a token of my utmost appreciation" she whispered and he watched as her lower lip trembled and tears welled in her eyes. He watched her eyes begin to shine with a glossy glow as she extended her small hand towards him, in her palm was a metallic hinged lid box. She held it out to him with a hand that barely trembled and his breath caught in his throat when he took the small box from her.

Sansa prayed to every god she knew of to be in existence and hoped that Littlefinger bought her act of pretend fealty and utter devotion to him and making him happy and content. She hoped by expressing a desire to please him financially he would not notice her plans of escaping as soon as she could muster the money. She prayed each night until her tears appeared that she wouldn't have to please too many men before she had the money for passage and a new life in the Free Cities.

She had decided the moment Meryn confronted them that her maidenhood was not worth her life, she had chuckled as she had the wry thought that pretending to enjoy each man with their eager and throbbing cocks that it would be like all her other chirping courtesies. Her mouth pulled into a small frown as her thoughts moved to Sandor, she hoped he would find the money to be able to claim her virginity.

In addition to her decision of the pleasure house being a necessary step in securing her permanent freedom, she still dreamed of knight's and maiden's frolicking through fields of blossoming jasmine and making love in patches of clover. The pain of her ripped maidenhead would be witnessed by statuesque trees with fringes of thick branches, raining petals of leaves to cover the undulating limbs of her and her lover.

She quickly replaced her frown with a small smile of forced enthusiasm that Littlefinger liked the gift she had pocketed from the storefront. She felt a bead of sweat roll down her lower back until the fabric of her gown wicked it away, she believed the gods had been with her when the merchant had his back turned and allowed her to steal the small item.

Littlefinger opened the small copper box that had been adorned with a golden filigree in the shape of a heart. His breath rushed from his lungs when his eyes took in the gentle beauty of the small stickpin that was nestled on a square of green velvet. The carved pin was a small block of onyx shaped into a mockingbird.

"Your sigil my lord" Sansa breathed until Littlefinger was nearly drowning in the gaze of the fiery haired beauty with her mother's Tully blue eyes. "For rescuing me, taking me under your protective merciful wings. I will never be able to thank you" she added and Ros had to hold back the laughs that threatened to spill from her lips. She felt his hand drop from her arm as he was completely enraptured at that moment with Lady Sansa Stark.

Ros was certain if Sansa had asked to be on the Iron Throne that Littlefinger would have tried to arrange it.

"You are very gracious" he whispered as he lightly ran his fingertip across the gleaming gemstone. "Please let's go share a meal and you can tell me of your progress" he said and then added with a shudder inducing tone as he affixed the pin to his tunic, "I'll let you know your next training exercise." He smiled down at the pin that caught the rays of sunlight and reflected brilliance above his heart.

While Ros, Sansa and Littlefinger returned to the pleasure house and eventually sat down for a meal of juicy stone fruit and glasses of intoxicating summer ale, Sandor stalked the halls towards the new quarters of Tyrion Lannister. The half man's head could have been bisected Sandor thought and had been shocked when he was relieved the Imp had survived. Although his position was diminished and he had been moved to a confining cage and given a crude muslin bandage without a care for his future existence, Sandor knew that he would be able to help him.

While Sandor knocked on the door with three raps and heard Tyrion call out in a low voice, Sansa drank deeply from the glass that Littlefinger refilled for her. The trio had been laughing and giggling in between bites of crisp slices of apples and squares of nutty confectionaries. Littlefinger had Ros demonstrate seduction techniques like feeding him plump purple grapes one at a time, the taut skins threatened to burst with their sweet blood as she pushed them one at a time between his thin lips.

Sansa had become more enthralled with the educational lessons that Littlefinger had Ros perform more and more with each sip of the sweet ale. Her fascination and perpetual blush seemed constant as Ros diligently followed his every command, it was impossible to discern the validity of emotions behind her actions.

Littlefinger didn't care if Ros was genuine in her affection, he was only concerned with the money her wet cunt made for him. As long as she spread her thighs and kept a smile on her lips and sensuality in her hooded eyes, he didn't care what she thought about as long as she filled his coffers.

Sansa, are your needs being met?" he asked as she sat across from him on a plush burgundy cushion.

He pushed Ros away and she resumed her seat opposite from Sansa.

"Yes my lord, everything has been wonderful" Sansa cooed, the alcohol was making her cheeks red and she couldn't shake the constant grin nor stifle her frequent giggles.

"I'm glad" he said with a curious smile.

"Ros, show Sansa how to pleasure yourself" he ordered before anyone could take a breath and then he turned to Sansa. "Pay attention, you're going to demonstrate what you observe."

Sansa felt color fill her face as Littlefinger turned his attention back to Ros who had hitched her skirts up to her thighs but left her femininity obscured by the fall of the soft and silky fabrics of her layered gown.

Sansa watched as Ros slipped a hand down her thigh and disappeared under the fabric. She continued to watch, her embarrassment giving some way to fascination as Ros thrust her hips forward in fluid rhythm and moaned long and low.

"Sometimes you'll have a customer that wants to pay to see you touch only yourself" Littlefinger whispered as Ros brought herself to the edge of ecstasy. Sansa watched as Ros's face flushed and she choked a gasp as her mouth fell slack after she dove into the abysmal chasm of pleasure. She thought perhaps it was a blessing in disguise to be paid and not have to be touched by a greasy pig that wanted to rut and grunt in between her thighs


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: A big thank you to Julia Aurelia for some lively messaging and idea brainstorming. I also decided for this chapter to go way A/U in regards to Shae and Tywin.

Sandor pushed open Tyrion's heavy chamber door when the Imp called out a generic invitation for entrance. He found the dwarf under a mound of blankets in the chilly room despite the sun shining proudly overhead the castle and its occupants. The cramped quarters were dim, the only light came from a squat tallow candle that gave off a wan yellow glow. The flame flickered and then came back to a still equilibrium in the wash of air produced when Sandor pushed open the chamber door.

Tyrion squinted up at Sandor who towered over him, "what do I owe for this pleasure?" he croaked and then paused to clear his throat.

He reached for a mug of tepid water and found it just out of reach of his fingertips. He sounded more like his usual self when he arched an eyebrow up at the still silent and stoic Sandor.

"I don't suppose an esteemed battlefield hero such as yourself would find it difficult to pass me that mug?"

Sandor grunted and pushed the mug towards Tyrion's open and waiting hand. He drank deeply from the mug, coughed twice and took another sip before he felt some measure of his thirst sated.

"What is it Clegane, you must have enough money to buy barrels of wine and wagons of enthusiastic whores?" he stated with some seriousness after replacing his mug on the table next to his narrow bed.

Sandor clenched his teeth until his jaw popped at the mention of whores, in his mind he frantically tried to shake the image of the reptilian Littlefinger looking at his little bird with his beady eyes. His fingers curled into fists as he thought of the putrid Littlefinger laying so much as a solitary breath across her skin.

Tyrion watched the emotions that strained just under the surface of Sandor's face when he spoke of buying random whores. He had heard from Shae when she snuck into his room earlier with a plate of roasted venison and boiled potatoes of a certain auction that the owner of pleasure himself Lord Baelish was hosting in now less than a month's time.

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he recalled nearly choking to death on a chunk of potato he had speared when Share delivered the news of the boy king's death in the same breath in the casual conversational tone.

While Sandor rasped out his request and Tyrion's exposed eye widened, Cersei crawled from the embrace of the young sleeping knight and padded across her room in bare feet. She pulled a wool afghan from an ornate chair and wrapped it around her lithe form.

She looked down at her hands that were joined in her lap, her fingers entwining in an erratic dance. She smiled over at the lightly snoring knight who looked so much like her beloved Jamie, his sun kissed limbs were limp at his sides as he sprawled across the tangled bed linens.

She tiptoed to the doors of her chambers and peeked out into the hall. Two of her most painfully loyal handmaidens had taken up post outside of her room. They immediately sprang to their feet at the sight of Cersei's sleepy and pale face.

"Fetch the Maester" she said in a tired tone and disappeared back inside her plush chambers. The handmaiden's shared a confused glance and the younger of the pair rushed off in search of Maester Pycelle.

While Cersei's young and delicate handmaiden sought out Pycelle, Sandor sat on a rickety stool and took the wine skin that Tyrion offered. He smirked as Sandor drank from the stretched skin that Shae had left when she took away his partially eaten plate of food.

"Are you thinking past merely winning her for the night Clegane?"

Tyrion's question ripped a hole into Sandor's conscious mind and he squeezed his hand around the wine skin until it threatened to rip and bleed heady scented tears.

"You'll need more than money, have you thought of where to travel?" he continued while Sandor brooded in unreadable silence.

"Braavos" he stated and smoothed out the wrinkled wine skin enough to take another deep drink.

Tyrion nodded, "how are you going to smuggle her away from Baelish?"

"Among the dead" he rasped and proceeded to explain the dirty details of his blood soaked plan as well as how Tyrion could offer help.

While the two men discussed what else was necessary to relieve Sansa from Littlefinger's pleasure house, across the city Ros sent a lazy smile over to Sansa and adjusted the hem of her thin gown.

As Littlefinger poured her another heady cup of Dornish wine, she winked at Sansa's wide and unblinking eyes. "Just think about a man that makes you tingle down there" she said with a contented sigh and sank back into the cushions as she brought the mug to her lips.

Littlefinger turned all of his attention to Sansa and she struggled to not squirm under his gaze that seemed to strip her bare. She felt like a live sacrifice strapped down to a stone tablet for someone else's invention of god, subject to a slow and living death in their acrid gullet. "Your turn to demonstrate what you learned my dear."

While Sansa felt the ability to formulate a coherent sentence evaporate and her tongue grew numb, back in the castle Tywin Lannister pushed the thought of his grandson's murder to the back of his mind with his struggling and breathing possession. He tightened his grip on the exotic handmaiden he had nearly run into coming around a corner.

He had been moving at a brisk pace on the way to the council room when the dark haired handmaiden was suddenly in front of him, her arms full of sun warmed linen. His hands had instinctively come up to grip her upper arms, she responded by dropping the armful of fabric and tried to move back out of his grip.

Tywin's eyes wanted her before his mind had fully processed her presence, her skin was hot under his palms. The scent of lush jasmine assaulted his senses and he practically salivated as his eyes swept down the front of her body, alighting on the fabric that caressed her breasts and gave rise to the swell of her hips.

"Just what might your name be?" he growled as he miscalculated the soldering beauty's strength and moved his head back to avoid her clenched fist as she swung at his royal profile.

The glossy raven haired woman immediately shot her fist out again and grazed his strong chin. He slid a rough hand down her smooth arm and closed around her wrist, with a grunt he wrenched her arm behind her back until he forced an involuntary cry to spill from her full lips.

Tywin felt a surge of victory and forced his other hand over her mouth to stifle any more sounds. No sooner had his palm settled against her soft lips before he gave a deep bellow when her teeth bit into the flesh of his hand spilling sweet blood down her chin.

His hand fell away from her mouth and his steel vice like grip on her wrist loosened just enough for her to pull herself free with a vigorous yank. Her right foot got caught up momentarily in her dress and didn't get an ample enough head start from the now enraged Tywin Lannister.

Adrenaline surged through his veins and his heartbeat pounded in his ears as he pursued the still anonymous handmaiden as she tried to outrun him. His longer stride made it easy to catch up to her and he caught her around the waist and pulled her into the first open room and slammed the door shut, securing the latch before he turned all of his attention to her.

The randomly selected room happened to be the map room, rows of dusty maps and intricate spider webs were the only witnesses in the room, seeing everything but forever mute.

His iron grip on her waist never loosened and she used both hands to try and pry his fingers away. "Now that we have some privacy, tell me your name or I'll cut your heart out."

"Shae, my name is Shae."

"Well then Shae, now we have a place to start."


	9. Chapter 9

While Cersei waited for her handmaiden to return with Maester Pycelle, she leaned back in her chair and let her heavy eyelids fall closed. A half smile fluttered briefly across her lips as she felt the young knight's sticky seed drying on the inside of her pale thighs and the sweet ache that emanated from her woman's place from his vigorous enthusiasm in their fucking. In the space of time that lapsed before the Master arrived she let her thoughts wonder to the loss of her child, her golden haired son that she had brought forth in pain and a flow of Lannister red blood. She could strain her ears and almost hear his small squalling form choking on the afterbirth, he nearly died seconds after he was born.

Tywin shouted as a sharp pain radiated from his hand adorned with jeweled rings as Shae wrenched his index finger backwards. The slender bone of his royal finger snapped with an audible pop and he was forced to release Shae's slender waist as he looked down at his hand with wide eyes and then narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you have any idea what you've just done girl?" he asked in a voice that was laced with pain.

Shae chuckled and flipped her hair back and answered in a casual tone. "It looks like I've broken your finger, my lord." She drew out her last words with a smirk as Tywin's hand began to deepen in color as the swelling grew, stretching the skin until it was taut from internal pressure.

"Your head will be on a spike by sundown" he promised in a dangerous tone and to his genuine surprise she gave a long and low laugh. He felt confusion settle in his mind, no one had ever dared laugh at anything he said unless he ordered them to , no one would even think about sneezing in his presence without his expressed permission.

"Hold your tongue girl or before your shoulders are relieved of your lovely head, I'll make sure the entire Kingsguard gets a fuck or two out of you first."

Shae took a small breath and glared at Tywin Lannister, her thoughts bled to black around the edges and she spit on the ground in front of his royal feet. "You think I'm nothing but someone to fuck and abuse, but I am more than that."

Tywin smirked and glanced down at his hand that was now throbbing in time with his heartbeat. "No you're not" he scoffed and continued while she slipped a hand to the inside of her gown where she had a slim dagger in a lambskin sheath. "You're a place to bury my cock and when I'm done, you'll be good and fucked and left as carrion in the streets."

A grimace of pain rippled across his face as he tried to make a fist and took a small step towards her. Shae feigned fear and dropped her eyes in mock resignation. Since Tywin was conditioned to people pledging him fealty and dropping to their knees while whores spread their thighs, he never saw her slim sun kissed hand close around the hilt of her dagger and flash out towards him.

The thin rays of sunlight reflected briefly across the smooth steel of her blade and slipped through his tunic with ease and up under his ribs. She continued to press the blade upwards, parting his flesh until the honed tip kissed his heart. Her hand was baptized in Tywin's life blood that splashed from around the buried hilt of the blade and soaked into the silk of her gown and stained the supple flesh underneath.

Shae kept her hand firmly wrapped around the hilt as his heart slowed around the buried blade and placed her other hand on his shoulder as he slowly dropped to his knees. She whispered into his ear as the light began to fade from his eyes. "Do you like this my lord, being penetrated?" she asked as his voice only emerged from his dry lips as a strangled cry.

She smiled and flicked her tongue against his ear, "I'm taking you my lord, I'm taking all of you, don't you like it?" she asked and lowered her mouth until her lips were mere millimeters from his as he entered into his final death throes.

"I'm going to go fuck your son with your life still under my fingernails" she whispered in a poisonous tone as venomous fire filled her eyes. "My lord" she hissed and felt his body sag as his body succumbed to death. She pushed him away and he landed on his back, the dagger stood upright from his chest, a proud phallus that would never grow flaccid.

While Shae pulled the hard steel from Tywin's still and unmoving chest and cleaned the blood with the edge of his wool tunic, across King's Landing at Petyr Baelish's pleasure house Sansa was staring hard at the floor her face as bright as the life giving and taking sun.

"Am I embarrassing you my dear?" Baelish's voice sounded with an amusing lilt. Sansa was too frozen in place for words but managed a nod at his question.

"I'm sorry my sweet Sansa, I only wish to encourage you to embrace the delectable treat you are to the eyes and the flesh" he whispered in a perverse tone.

Sansa struggled not to shudder at the sound of his slimy words as they washed over her, making her feel exposed to his lecherous gaze. Instead, she summoned tears to her cobalt blue colored eyes and looked across the room at him, pupils wide and glistening with collected moisture.

He cleared his throat as her perceived vulnerability only increased his desire to rip her gown away and fuck her breathless, to spill her innocent blood on imported and exotic silks and satin linen.

"We can prolong that area of your instruction provided you give me a dance" he said in a soft tone, watching as she swallowed hard and wiped away the remaining salty tear drops that clung to her eyelashes.

"A dance my lord?" she asked in a quizzical tone while a small frown appeared in her forehead, creasing her porcelain smooth skin.

"Just one dance, nothing more" he said in a hushed tone and leaned back in his heavily padded chair as she absorbed his request.

Sansa again found herself with the momentary inability to formulate a coherent sentence and nodded in agreement in lieu of speaking.

"Excellent" Littlefinger exclaimed and clapped his hands with childish delight. "Of course you'll need music" he added and snapped his fingers and called for Ivey and Summer.

Sansa's blush had receded enough for her to smile and offer a courteous greeting to the two young women who worked in the brothel, both girls had their hands full.

The young whores sat when Littlefinger pointed to a pile of plush round cushions that were strewn haphazardly on the brothel floor.

The slender blonde sat holding a stringed wooden instrument while the young and darker haired Ivey's hands were cradling a stack of gowns with sheer belts and sleeves.

"A gift my sweet Sansa" Littlefinger said as Ivey brought the gowns over to her and laid them across her lap.

"Thank you my lord, you are too gracious" Sansa said as she ran her hands over the smooth silks that fell with fluid water-like grace beneath her fingertips.

Littlefinger gestured to a thin papery screen in the corner of the room, "while you change Ivey here will entertain us with a song, her voice is truly a gift from the old and new gods."

Sansa felt her eyes grow wide as Ivey pressed the gowns into her hands and whispered into her ear at a tone that no one else could detect. "You need to go change and then dance well my lady. Your future depends on your actions and success in this room."

Sansa nodded and stood with shaky knees and accepted the armful of sheer fabric and disappeared behind the screen to change into one of Littlefinger's gifts.

While she slipped out of her dress and selected the most demure of the quintet of gowns to choose from, Ivey's voice started to fill the room with a delicate melody and words filled to near bursting with passion, lust and laced with delicious flirtation. Summer's fingers moved over the stringed instrument and teased a lovely accoutrement to inspire and bolster the songstress's lyrics.

While Sansa adjusted the new gown, the fabric clinging to her waist and smoothing down to lightly skim her thighs, Shae grunted as she pushed Tywin's body into a dark and recessed corner of the map room. The dank lightless corner of the room was cooler in temperature than the rest of the room and she looked down at the front of her dress with disgust curling her full lips. She ripped away the fabric that was growing stiff from the saturation of blood, she plucked at her dress until she was satisfied that most of the evidence was out of sight.

She moved around a couple of stacks of dusty wooden crates with maps to partially obscure where the dim corner was hiding Tywin. She walked at a brisk pace, careful to not run and draw attention to herself as she quickly progressed to Tyrion's new and cramped quarters.

Sandor drained the wine skin and gave a deep and wet sounding belch as he stood and prepared to leave Tyrion's chambers. It felt foreign to bring forth any words of gratitude to the half man and he struggled with the rarely spoken syllables. Before he could articulate anything the chamber doors burst open and Shae was shouting before she saw Sandor who was standing just out of her line of sight in the dimly lit room.

"My lion, I've killed your father." Her words died in her throat as her eyes found Sandor in the low light. Her hand immediately went to her waist and she pulled the same dagger that had just recently taken Tywin Lannister's life.

"Seven Hells girl" Sandor started to say and closed the difference between them with his long and powerful stride and snatched the dagger from her hand before she could blink. "Close the door before the whole god damned kingdom hears you."

While Shae slammed and latch Tyrion's chamber doors, Maester Pycelle shuffled into Cersei's chambers flanked by the young handmaiden. Cersei dismissed the girl with a flick of her wrist and gestured for Pycelle to sit across from her. She offered him a mug of wine and he declined even though his nerves screamed for the numbing effect.

The queen regent looked over the rim of her mug at him until he squirmed under her wordless gaze.

When she finally spoke, her voice was tired. "What killed my son?"

Pycelle's eyes looked everywhere but hers and then squinted at the bare back of the knight sleeping in her bed, his nude body cradled by her scented and tangled linen.

"What killed my son?" she repeated with more conviction.

"I haven't identified the poison yet your grace, I need more time" he stammered and struggled to sit still as she narrowed her eyes at him and finally drained her glass.

"Do you think I am a stupid woman?" she asked in a bitter tone.

"No of course not your grace, I would never…" he started to say before she interrupted him with a spark that lit up her eyes like wildfire.

"Never what? Never lie to my face?" she asked in a low tone and poured another full mug of glass, the burgundy alcohol spilling over the sides of the pewter mug.

"Tell me what killed my son" she demanded and threw the full mug of wine across the room. Pycelle felt like his tongue had shriveled in his mouth as the queen regent was filled with anger. "Tell me" she screeched and caused the knight to stir in his sleep.

Pycelle found his voice and whispered his answer to Cersei, her eyes narrowed and a small smile pulled at the corners of her lips as he finished speaking.

"Leave" she said in a emotionless tone and waited until he left before she shed her gown and slid into the tangled linen to join the young knight.

"Jamie?" she whispered as she insinuated her nude body into the sleeping knight's embrace. He grunted and half rolled to the side bringing his arms around her, "Jamie please hold me forever."


	10. Chapter 10

Littlefinger was partially paying attention to Ivey's musical voice when Sansa emerging from behind the painted paper screen caught first his eyes and then overwhelmed his senses when he absorbed the image of her creamy limbs draped in exotic linens. Ros smiled in approval as she lounged with another mug of sweet wine.

Sansa's tall and lithe form was encased in layers of sheer fabrics that kissed her curves and highlighted her slim thighs and left her delicate calves and ankles exposed to his lustful scrutiny. She had chosen a gown that had overlaying layers of a deep green silk and warm burnt orange. The supple fabric passed over her breasts, dipping deep to leave her upper chest bare.

Littlefinger pressed his lips together before he quickly grabbed his mug and took a few deep drinks, begging the alcohol to quell his mounting desire for the smooth bare expanses of her porcelain skin. His eyes followed the long tendrils of her hair that she had loosened and he practically salivated at the individual strands that kissed the rounded tops of her breasts that were outlined with a deep green satin trim.

His eyes moved down her waist and to the tips of her bare toes as she walked towards the middle of the room. Sansa's eyes darted towards Ros's who recognized the fear and naiveté present in the deep blue eyes and dilated inky black pupils. She rose from her unladylike lounging and joined Sansa whose rapid breathing served as an erratic accoutrement to Summer's music.

While Ros started moving her arms and hips to the sounds created from under Summer's fingertips, Cersei reluctantly got out of bed with the name Pycelle had whispered across her lips "Margery Tyrell."

She called for one of her handmaiden's to fetch a new carafe of Dornish wine and a plate of summer fruits. After the handmaiden spread the fresh food on the table Cersei dismissed her and walked over and nudged the snoring knight awake. He stretched and gave the Queen Regent a lazy smile. He reached for her and she moved so that his searching fingertips only found silken cloth.

"Soon perhaps" she whispered and let her pink tongue dart out and moisten her lips "but first a bit of business, get dressed."

She let her eyes roam over his bare body as he moved out of the royal satin bed linens. Cersei sipped at her wine as the knight dressed, "Jamie?"

The knight froze as he pulled on his boots but didn't respond.

"Jamie?" she called again with a sharper tone.

"Y…Yes my Queen?" he finally asked as she took a deep breath to repeat herself for the third time.

"Do you like spending time with me?" she asked in a low tone and let her fingertips trail casually along the exposed skin at the rounded tops of her breasts.

"More than anything" he whispered truthfully and stood to his full height.

"Sit, drink, I'd like you to do something for me."

"Anything my Queen" he said with unashamed desperation staining his voice as he walked to the small round table.

The knight took the seat across from Cersei after she got settled in the padded chair. She in turn waited until he had finished a whole goblet of wine before she outlined her proposal.

"Bring me Margery Tyrell's hands. Bring me the hands that put poison into my son and ripped him from my life." She was near tears and her hands were shaking as she reached for a thick slice of rich amber colored citrus, bloated with sweetness.

The young knight nodded before she finished with the reward.

"For that, you may share my bed as long as it is convenient for me."

While the knight drank another goblet of wine Cersei began to pull her skirts up around her thighs to bolster his decision, Maester Pycelle shuffled back to his chambers. He winced at the pain radiating from deep in his abdomen as he descended the stairs to his laboratory of sorts. The stones bled damp water that made a stagnant pool on the dusty floor.

Pycelle settled heavily on a hard bench and pressed a hand against his lower belly. A involuntary cry of pain escaped from between his lips as his palpating palm found the large growth that had grown close to the size of a prematurely born infant. The summer before had been the first time he had noticed the growth, he pressed his lips into a thin line as another spasm of crippling pain spread across his body.

He let his head hang until the pain subsided enough for him to stand on legs that were barely trembling and cross the room to one of his cluttered work spaces. He crushed a few dried leaves in a small copper bowl as he thought of the Hound's warning. Pycelle knew his remaining life was limited or he would never have disobeyed an order from a man who was known for his legendary combat bloodlust and empty-eyed eviscerations.

He let out another moan as he had to hurry to his chamber pot. His vision blurred as unshed tears filled his eyes and his body released a foul smelling gas as blood filled fecal matter spattered against the white basin.

While Pycelle's body cramped in torrential waves, across the castle in his new and compact chambers Tyrion smirked and held up his mug. "A shame he'll never sing at our wedding."

Shae's confusion dissipated for a split second and she arched an eyebrow at him, "our wedding my lion?"

Tyrion shrugged "your wedding, my wedding, our wedding. Who's really keeping track?"

"Bugger your wedding, now you need me as much as I need you Imp" Sandor grumbled and looked around for another wine skin.

"Ah, certainly an opportunity to drink" he said draining his mug of tepid water.

"Where'd you hide the savior of the city?" Sandor rasped at Shae.

"In the back of the map room" she answered in her exotically accented voice.

"Well let's not leave him waiting" Tyrion added after he emptied his mug and threw his bedcovers to the side.

"Not so fast my lion" Shae said tucking the covers back under his chin and tossing a sidelong glance over at where Sandor was waiting in amused silence.

"Wait here, you need to rebuild your strength" she whispered and brushed a kiss across his lips before turning her attention to Sandor as emotion left her eyes and voice.

"Shall we?" she asked and dipped into an awkward curtsey.

While Shae led Sandor to the map room where she had left Tywin's body to cool and surrender to the stranglehold of rigor mortis, they shared only silence. Neither felt it necessary to feign courtesy and they found the map room still vacated. After Shae revealed where she had hidden the body, Sandor's eyes took in her killing strike that had left Tywin's royal tunic saturated with drying blood. He looked over at Shae, "a clean and sure strike. You didn't hesitate" he added with admiration.

Shae crossed her arms under her breasts and smirked, "nor will I hesitate in the future." She spit on the ground near Tywin's dead booted feet, her face nearly reflected in their polished and lustrous surface. "He was just another swine masquerading as a man, but they all bleed out the same."

Sandor let out a deep laugh that at the small woman's truthful statement, while his laughter waned in the dusty map room Ivey's voice continued to grow in volume in the brothel near the castle.

Littlefinger's famished senses fed ravenously off the sight of her body and taste of her soul. His ears registered no sounds except the ones that exuded from the layers of sheer fabric that skimmed the surface of Sansa's legs, the faint whisper as the cloth kissed the length of her smooth appendages.

His eyes felt like they were pounding in their orbital nests in time with his heartbeat as he absorbed her image and committed the very moment to his memory. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair as her arms rose and fell and inhaled the lavender scented wave of air that was generated from her undulating limbs.

Littlefinger sat up straighter in his chair, his salivary glands in overdrive flooding his mouth with saliva that he continually swallowed with each sip from his glass of wine. His hands ached to touch her and stroke their way from the silver clasps that secured the bodice of her gown in place to her bare toes that peeked out from beneath the silken cloth. He let an arm drop to cover his lap as his cock strained to thrust into her in time with her rapid breathing. He longed to feed on her fear and innocence as though his life was dependent upon it.

Sansa's belly full of sweet wine bolstered her confidence and she let Ros's hands initially direct her to move with the sweet rise and fall of Ivey's dulcet tones. She let the musical ebb and flow of the song's melody pull her into its comforting and safe embrace. Sansa wouldn't have been able to recall when Ros's hands fell away from her hips and let her fly on her own as Ivey's voice wrapped around her mind.

"_Sansa don't be sad,"_

"_Life is crazy, life is mad."_

"_Don't be afraid."_

"_Sansa don't be sad."_

"_That's your destiny, the only chance"_

"_Take it, take it in your hands."_

Sansa found the musical strains that Summer teased from the stringed instruments easy to fall into. She swayed her hips in slow circular movements as she let her eyes close and tipped her head back until the tendrils of her fiery red hair brushed past the waistline of her seductive gown. The candlelight from the room illuminated the expanse of bare skin off her neck and chest as she ran her hands down her sides as though she was embodying the hands of a future lover.

A/N:

Hi my lovely FF friends, thank you so much for reading, xoxo

The song is "Carly's Song" by Enigma in its original form.


	11. Chapter 11

Ros matched Sansa's movements and swiveled in Littlefinger's direction, she recognized the thick glaze of dust across his beady eyes. He didn't have to snap his fingers since Ros had already stopped dancing and went directly to his side. She let the top of her dress fall away and expose her breasts before she spit into her hand and snaked it into Littlefinger's breeches to grip and stroke his cock Ros moved her hand in time with each sway of Sansa's hips until Littlefinger bit back a low hiss and arched once into her hand, filling her palm with the sticky mess she would later wipe on a designated swatch of cloth.

Ros looked up at him with a slow moving smile before moving away from him and discreetly cleaning her hand, she shook her head as Sansa was unaware of anything that happened while she moved in her own little world. She watched a rosy glow fill Sansa's cheeks as Littlefinger and the girl's showered her with compliments on her dancing and how becoming she looked in the exotic gown. For once Ros was glad the weekly chore of sticking a hand down Littlefinger's pants was better than fucking him or tonight better than Sansa having to touch him. She had been nearly ill when she saw the expression he wore as her hand moved on his manhood and his eyes only saw Sansa. His face reminded her of her older brothers and fathers when they would hunt animals, they experienced such joy and elation from robbing an innocent of its lifeblood.

Ros suppressed a shudder as Littlefinger dismissed them all as she remembered the time she had walked in when her father and brothers had been skinning a winter deer. She had vomited down the front of her simple cotton shift at the men tossing back leaking mugs of bitter ale in between hacking the creature into convenient pieces. Her mother had taken an apple wood branch to the back of her thighs for interrupting the men, she found less on her dinner plate for nearly a week to remind her of the female's place among the men. That was the last week she had eaten there, she was twelve when she slipped out in the dead of night and not too much older before she was working in pleasure houses.

Littlefinger's satisfied voice brought her back to reality, "do you need something my dear?" he asked with a lecherous grin.

"No, I'm just so pleased with her progress" she said quickly.

Littlefinger interpreted her downcast eyes as submission and that made him practically puff with pride, it left him feeling generous. "You are doing a wonderful job my dear, perhaps if she demonstrates something magnificent, I will let you have an entire month off with payment."

"An entire month my lord?" Ros whispered.

"Yes, but Sansa needs to perform in an exceptional manner" he said resting his chin on his fingertips and adding. "With me."

Ros took a small but sharp intake of breath, "may I ask my lord what do you find exceptional?"

"What you do for me, what you did tonight" he said with a leer.

She held her breath, "just what I do with my hand, nothing else?"

Littlefinger tilted his head to look at her, his chin pivoting on her fingertips. "Just her hand, for now" he said with a smirk adding as he nodded at the door for her to leave. "You have five days to instruct and if she fails, you and I will be having a discussion."

Ros nodded, "of course my lord" she said and scurried from the room to return to room she shared with Sansa. She found the flaming haired girl on her side of the room lounging on her bed. She steadied herself with how to have this conversation. Sansa looked over at her with some anticipation that quickly turned to concern at Ros's expression.

"Are you okay Ros? Should I fetch someone?" she asked springing to her feet, her face morphing into worry.

"I'm okay Sansa, I'm sorry to scare you. I just need to talk to you about some requirements of sorts that are going to be needed from you. I will be with you every step of the way but this is something you need to decide on your own" Ros said and sat on the edge of her bed, she tugged Sansa to sit next to her. Once both girl's were settled Ros began to explain what Littlefinger wanted.

While Sansa's eyes grew wide and her ability to speak evaporated, Sandor and Shae checked again that the map room was bolted shut and began to rip the drapes from the stone cut windows. The dusty fabric was pregnant with disintegrating spider webs and their silk wrapped contents.

Shae stifled a cough as the dust formed a low cloud in the chilly room. They rolled Tywin's body onto the dark Lannister red cloth and both had no qualms or hesitation about stripping away the royal rings, jewels, coins or anything else of value their searching hands could find.

After their hands had raped the body of all its tangible value they secured the fabric around his body in two neat bows from scraps of torn fabric. Shae had watched as Sandor ripped the other curtain into strips of cloth to secure Tywin's dead limb that were stiff now but would soon grow loose and flaccid, the fabric bound his limbs together so he would retain some rigidity as he decomposed in the warm summer air.

As Shae tied one end of the cloth around the end of the fabric roll she leaned forward and Sandor could see the flash of a dagger on her sun kissed lean thigh.

"How many lives have you taken my lady?" Sandor asked out of the blue with a subjective mix of sarcasm and seriousness.

"Twenty-three" she said in a casual tone as she secured the fabric end.

Sandor nearly whistled, "twenty-three?" he asked trying to keep the sound of astonishment and disbelief out of his voice.

She heard it anyway and stood and planted her hands on her shapely hips.

"Before I made the decision to sell my body to make a living, I was a younger girl who was tired of being hurt by men including my father and brothers. Don't mistake the thought of me selling my cunt for the night means the word no has no meaning" she said setting her mouth in a thin line.

"I wouldn't mistake something like that" he said with seriousness and then a half smile. "You're tough for a small one" he added in a factual tone.

Shae felt a smile cross her own lips and she went and secured the other end of the cloth before she started giggling in girlish fashion.

While Sandor checked the stone floor for anything that might have fallen from Tywin's royal attire, Margery Tyrell filled two buttery soft satchels with a few personal items but mainly dark and plain clothing of monochromatic of charcoal grays, mahogany brown and deep ebony. She looked around her room in a hurried and twitchy motion and tried to calculate the shortest distance to the castle stables. She patted the sewn pockets of her rough woolen cloak, she had gold and silver and in theory should be able to finance a long distance trip away from King's Landing.

She whirled to her chamber door which squealed open and the knight that had spent the night in-between Cersei's thighs walked in and wordlessly closed and bolted the door behind him, she immediately began to plea for her life.

"Please ser, I have gold if you'll spare my life."

"Hush my lady" the knight whispered and drew a sharp blade with a rigid curve. "I'm not here for your life" he said as he advanced towards her.

"Please I'll give you anything" she struggled to say as her voice was racked with sobs.

"You can 't give me more than the queen" the knight scoffed and snaked his hand out too fast for Margery to register and closed around her delicate wrist. She let out a choking gasp as he laid the underbelly of her wrist bare, the artery pounding strong under her taut flesh.

"I can though, I swear, please. Listen, oh please I beg of you." She stumbled over her words as the knight set the blade flush against her skin and pressed until a thin line of appeared and welled with individual beads of blood.

"Please a minute, oh gods I beg you ser" Margery cried and struggled uselessly in the knight's iron grip.

She managed a small breath when he lifted the knife from her wrist but maintained his vice like grip.

"Speak fast" he ordered and brought the knife to her slim and unblemished neck.

"With Joffrey dead, I'll be married to Tommen and become queen. All you need to do is kill Cersei and Pycelle and I swear I can match whatever she promised you and even improve upon it" she vowed.

The knight smirked and shook her wrist as he laughed, "she'll share her bed with me, how can you make that better?"

Her blush blossomed with the ferocity of a storm and she lowered her eyes and whispered in a tone so low he might not have heard if he hadn't leaned close.

"I'm a maiden my lord, you can have all that I am. My entire body is yours for as long as you like" she said in a voice that managed to just barely shake.

"As often as I'd like?" the knight countered and lowered the knife from her smooth neck.

"Yes" she said without delay and was able to manage an entire breath when he slipped the dagger out of sight.

"How about now?" he asked releasing her wrist, ready though in case she decided to take a swing at him.

Her mouth fell open without a sound emerging and she backed up until her hip was stopped by the corner of her cared bureau.

"Now?" she asked with visible shaking.

"Yes now, how do I know you'll keep your word?" he said closing the distance between them and settling a hand on the bureau on either side of her body. Every inhale brought his scent deeper into her body. She closed her eyes and leaned back as she felt his lips along the rigid cartilage of her ears and move into a soft trail of light kisses along her jaw line.

Her chest grew tighter as each of his kisses brought his lips closer to hers. A soft moaned fell from her lips when one of her hand smoothed a path up to cup her breast through her rough hewn dress. All other sounds were swallowed when his mouth covered hers. Her heart pounded inside her chest as the knight pulled her skirts up past her hips and moved her silken smallclothes out of the way. While the young knight thrust his hips in between hers at a somewhat erratic pace, Pycelle struggled to get comfortable on his bed. His belly was sending piercing splashes of wildfire in multiple directions as soon as he got settled on a stack of mismatched pillows.

He sat upright as a spasm contorted his back, he stood and wobbled for a second as a wave of dizziness made his vision shrink and finally return to normal. He staggered to another work space and upended a small amber glass bottle with a light green powder into a pewter mug.

At that moment in time his body decided that it was done fighting the growth that was leeching its energy, spirit and life. Pycelle's cardiac system fluttered and he lost consciousness. His body fell to the stone floor with a thud, the back of his sparse grey haired scalp cracked liked a fresh hen's egg. Pycelle's life lasted for seven more seconds as his brain projected jumbled images in front of his half-closed eyes. His last conscious thought was that his bladder had released and his belly was covered in a pool of warm urine and then he thought no more.

In the final seconds that Pycelle exhaled his life, Sansa inhaled in her room with Ros as she outlined what Littlefinger wanted her to do.

"I don't know if I can " Sansa stammered when Ros clearly defined what she'd be expected to do and the sticky and inconvenient aftermath.

"Sansa if you are to stay here and save money to escape to the Free Cities you'll need to do that and more, don't make Littlefinger angry. He can be a very cruel man and I don't want to see him turn his wrath on you." Ros said with a rueful smile.

Sansa saw that Ros had more words that were etched across her clear eyes but were best unspoken. She nodded slowly and Ros's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"Okay" she said in a tone that was nearly defeated, "please explain again."

Sansa struggled to not frown but was helpless to keep her blush hidden as Ros explained in painfully articulate detail what she was expected to do in less than a week."

Sansa frowned when Ros refused to explain what would most likely follow, she said it wasn't something she wanted to add to everything else but she reiterated that she would be at her side at all times.


	12. Chapter 12

As Ros explained in as delicate verbiage as she could muster, Littlefinger shuffled through a stack of yellow parchment letters that had started arriving from wealthy merchants, landowners and nobility expressing lucrative interest in the fiery haired maiden. He smiled as he read letter after letter with opening bids on Sansa's innocence from bountiful amounts of golden dragons, strips of land and even entire castles in the hopes for a winning bid in order to rut between her virginal thighs.

Littlefinger was a greedy man on the outside and inside his desiccated heart that somehow beat even though he was nearly stripped of humanity wanted more money for the privilege of changing Sansa from a maiden to a woman. Several merchants and royalty hadn't responded yet and Littlefinger could only assume it was because they hadn't laid eyes on Sansa in person. That single thought gave him the idea to host a large banquet and have never empty glasses of deep Dornish wine and honeyed ale and copious amounts of eager and naked flesh. Sansa would be the grand finale, he knew that another dance like the one she performed earlier and the bets would increase ten-fold and Littlefinger wouldn't have enough years left to count his wealth.

He cleared a space and started drafting the announcement of the lavish banquet, he planned it with just enough time to cart in exotic and delectable delicacies and known aphrodisiacs. He called out to a mousey brunette walking by who was known more for her nonverbal oral skills than conversational to check the inventory on hand for wines, ales and other stronger liquors. While she scurried to follow out his orders, Littlefinger decided his first order of business the following day would be to bring a tailor to the brothel to fashion a gown for Sansa that would drip sensuality and bleed raw lust as she danced to arouse stiff cocks and make them ejaculate gold instead of their sticky seed.

By the time he had finished penning his announcement, the young whore returned and delivered inventory numbers that were lower than he would have liked. He dismissed her and walked at a brisk pace to where Sansa was still listening to Ros with rapt and undivided attention.

He opened the door without knocking and found the girl's deep in conversation. They both turned questioning eyes towards him and he shut the door while he started outlining a change in the future plans.

"Sansa you danced beautifully this evening and you shall again at a banquet in your honor" he started and crossed the room and knelt in front of Sansa as she blushed furiously and protested how she wouldn't be able to repeat the performance.

"Sansa?" Littlefinger whispered and felt a delicious surge when her protests died in her throat as his hands settled on top of her firm thighs. He could feel the heat from her taut skin under the soft fabric of her gown and he struggled to not smile broadly as her muscles began to tremble.

As soon as he had captured her full and unequivocal attention, he pressed his fingertips into her flesh until her fear spilled from her lips in a low moan. "You will dance again Sansa" he ordered in a soft tone and slid his hands to rest on her kneecaps. He moved her thighs apart and whispered in a dangerous tone that caused her to flinch.

"You will dance with even more passion or I'll cancel all the plans and take you right now, then tomorrow you can start working. Would you prefer that my lady?" he asked with perverted glee as he slipped a hand from her knee and trailed his fingertips up her smooth inner thigh, stopping just outside the edge of her silken smallclothes.

While Sansa struggled to speak within such close proximity to Littlefinger, in the castle Sandor and Shae finished bundling up Tywin's body that was beginning to grow a deeper plum shade along the underside of his skinny thighs as the blood settled.

"How will you get his body out of the castle?" Shae asked as Sandor gauged the easiest way to heft the body without forcing out the undigested stomach content's and bright bile.

"Flea Bottom is always looking for some almost fresh ingredients for a bowl o' brown" he said winking remembering waking up in the laps of scab-ridden whores.

He tossed her a few coins he had pulled from Tywin's tunic and tossed them to Shae, "go find a wagon to cart him across the city."

Shae wrinkled her nose in disgust, knowing that Tywin would not be the first human addition to the slow cooked stew.

While Shae tried to not draw attention to her departure from the castle, in her chambers Margery stepped away from the knight after he had spent his seed inside of her womb. She shifted her heavy layers of her dress back into place as the knight did the same with the front of his breeches, she was glad to see him tuck his now flaccid cock out of sight.

She took a deep breath and sat on the edge of her bed, a dull ache radiated from her woman's place as the knight surprised her by walking briskly to her chamber doors, clearly intent on leaving.

"Wait ser" she called with a questioning plea.

He paused and looked back over his shoulder at the maiden he had just fucked into a woman. She took his wordless pause as a prompt to continue speaking.

"Please ser tell me what you are planning to do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked before he pulled open the door and left her alone with her aching cunt and sticky thighs.

"I'm going to help secure your place on the throne."


	13. Chapter 13

"I will dance my lord, I swear I will please you" Sansa whispered in a desperate and furtive tone.

"I know you will Sansa. You are my obedient little flower" Littlefinger said in factual authority and pressed his dry lips against her forehead in a chaste kiss before leaving the room without another word.

"You will please everyone" Ros quickly said in the quiet seconds immediately after Littlefinger's abrupt entrance and departure, meaning to reassure the young girl.

Sansa nodded to Ros as she prayed to herself to the old and new gods that when she looked out into the wealthy audience she was supposed to please that Sandor would be there. A frown creased her smooth skin at his absence now that she was not being housed at the castle. Her thoughts moved to his scarred scowl and grey eyes that could fill with fearsome battlefield prowess and masculine rage.

She wondered when she would see him again away from the dusty and congested streets that surrounded Lord Baelish's pleasure house, when they could share a scarce moment of privacy. While Sansa repeated her litany of desperate prayers to gods that were invented by men, in the castle in the queen regent's royal chambers Cersei had crawled back into bed and was drifting off into a light nap when she felt the knight's cool fingers brush against her pale cheek. She opened her eyes and let a small smile tug at the corners of her mouth, her lips froze in mid-motion when she saw his hand wrapped around the gleaming dull handle of a steel dagger.

"Wait" she stated with a fair of amount of force and still managed to untangle herself from the bed linen and stand with stoic grace.

"Share a glass of wine with me first" she said with a gentler tone and crossed to a carafe of wine set apart from the others. She poured a healthy glass for the man who reminded her so much of her beloved Jamie.

She held the glass out to him and waited until he drank from his mug before she raised her own cup to her lips. Her eyes narrowed above the rim of her glass as she watched him swallow the entirety of the cup's contents.

She finished her own cup and set it aside, "grant me one more request, please?" she implored of the knight.

He lowered the hand that clutched the dagger and instead of answering in words, she brushed past him and returned to the side of her bed. He watched on as she held him locked in paralyzing stasis while she removed every last bit of her clothing and slid back between the cool to the touch linen.

He returned the dagger to its worn sheath and joined the queen regent, ready to thrust between her thighs before he took her life. She gave him an unreadable expression as he fumbled at the laces of his breeches, his hands froze at a knot in his laces as a sharp pain started low in his belly. He winced and felt his rigid manhood glow flaccid in his hand and become useless as shooting pain rippled across his entire abdomen.

He coughed hard until tears sprang to his eyes and didn't notice that Cersei was also cradling her hands against her bare belly.

She was smiling through her pain up at him, her brilliant white teeth flashed in her mouth as blood leaked from her nose and tear ducts.

"Jamie" she whispered as a dull sensation filled her abdominal cavity and deep shock set in, taking her pain away like the searching fingers of the tide.

He couldn't form words through the blood that bubbled up his throat, letting only wet gurgles fall from between his lips. His strength evaporated and he collapsed on top of her and she wrapped her arms around him, whispering soothing sounds as their bodies struggled to staunch the hemorrhaging that was way past the point of no return.

"I took the wine from Joffrey's room" she whispered as his heart began to slow permanently. "The same wine that killed our son" she managed to say before a weak cough nearly ended her life. The knight was already dead by the time Cersei spoke her last words.

"I've loved only you, my beloved Jamie."

While Cersei and the young knight whom she had never called by his given name laid in the royal linen waiting to be discovered, Shae returned to the map room to inform Sandor that she had located a wooden cart with wobbly wheels that should manage the trip to Flea Bottom.

Sandor grunted an approval of sorts and hefted Tywin's cooling corpse over a broad shoulder. He followed Shae through a series of barely used stone hallways that held a year round perpetually dank aroma.

Sandor's instincts were on high alert and he was ready to dump Tywin's body to the floor and draw his sword on any unlucky fuck who decided to question him or bar his progression through the castle. Shae walked a few steps ahead, always peeking around corners and down stairwells before she would signal if it was clear to continue to where she had the wooden cart brought to a halt.

While Sandor and Shae traversed the last part of the castle to reach the sliver ridden and poorly crafted cart, Margery was at the opposite of the castle attempting to draw no attention as she pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. When the knight had looked back over his shoulder at her after claiming her innocence she knew he would not return, or if he did he would be flanked by other Kingsguard's or even Cersei. Margery dropped her eyes and let her shoulders slump as she shuffled out of the castle gates, she was glad she had taken the time to rub clods of dirt into her cloak. To the guards she passed on the way out of the castle before she disappeared into the crowd, she was a dirt crusted hag clutching her world possessions close to her chest in a threadbare bag. They labeled her irrelevant and paid her no attention as she shuffled past.

As Lady Margery Tyrell walked in one direction, Sandor and Shae secured Tywin's shrouded corpse into the cart under a moth eaten wool blanket that Shae had found in a filthy wad as she had returned from the cesspool of filth Flea Bottom.

After Tywin was as well hidden as could be managed, Shae checked the harness that attached the cart to the sturdy mare that waited in patience with her head dropped as she nibbled on a few shoots of green that grew despite the hard ground.

Sandor climbed up into the bench seat that had been crudely constructed and nodded his gratitude towards Shae who watched him steer the horse and cart out of the castle and head for Flea Bottom where Tywin would be a relatively fresh accoutrement for the bowl o' brown that varied between being packed with avian, reptilian or rodent meat. He let his thoughts wander to his little bird in Littlefinger's house of wanton lust and naked perversion, eager to unload the coat with the Lannister body and to a tavern for his fill of ale and then wine or wine followed by ale.

While Sandor made the trip to Flea Bottom, Sansa was standing on a small bench as the tailor clucked around her lithe limbs, holding up various bolts of fabric before draping her body in swaths of silken cloth. Ros sat across from Sansa and would pitch in with a thought or two as she nursed a glass of honeyed ale.

The tailor had demanded privacy to perfect his craft but had allowed Ros to stay when Sansa didn't want to be alone with the man with the greasy pencil thin mustache and rapidly blinking eyes. She remembered her taught courtesies though and was always ready with a smile or cordial comment as the tailor's eyes stopped blinking enough when he found a bolt of pale peach fabric that was close to sheer. Ros smiled her approval as Sansa's creamy skin shone through the thin cloth and brought a seductive warmth to the fabric.

While the tailor took more measurements before departing, Sandor arrived at Flea Bottom and made his way to a sagging tavern and found the aging owner and squat wife who would have agreed to anything the man with the twisted features stated. Sandor pressed a couple gold dragons into the tavern owner's palm, he nearly laughed at how large their eyes grew when looking at the gleaming gold. He had found the gold in a small pouch inside of Tywin's tunic, he led the couple to the cart and the obscured corpse and unhitched the horse. He left the couple with the corpse and headed back to drink until he lost track of time.

Shae had continued to watch Sandor lead the docile mare away carting her relatively fresh kill, she had felt some rush of pride when he complimented her. She watched his broad shoulders and back as he disappeared into the throng of people haggling with merchants, butchering swine or getting sloshing drunk and vomiting in the alleyways if they could make it that far. She had returned to Tyrion's chambers and was still there as Sandor took an empty seat in the tavern that held the persistent and pungent odor of hard labor, cheap ale and manure caked boot heels.

Sandor finished the first mug of ale that carried a bitter aftertaste and quickly worked through several more mugs before he staggered out of the tavern. He paused as a grubby child with dirt streaked cheeks and a split lip that was healing, who barely stood as tall as his hips but was waving a paper with enthusiasm.

Sandor ripped the paper from the boy and started to growl out a sharp barb but stopped when his eyes caught a few words from the rough fibered paper.

"_Fiery haired…..maiden…North."_

Sandor's eyes skimmed the paper and clenched his hands into fists and let the paper fold up and die under his grip. He tossed the boy a coin and practically mowed people out of the way as he stomped back through the castle courtyard and never slowed until he pounded on Tyrion's chamber doors before pushing it opening without pausing for an invitation.

Shae jumped up from the bed where she had been reclining next to Tyrion, she relaxed somewhat when she saw that it was Sandor barging in and not accusations of murder and her head on a spike.

Anger rolled off Sandor in waves that nearly scalded as he threw the crumpled announcement to fall onto Tyrion's blanket covered.

"Something troubling you Clegane?," Tyrion smirked as he unfolded and smoothed the announcement until it was again legible.

"Fuck off," Sandor growled and waited as Tyrion read the entire announcement.

"Well, it seems you will be getting to visit Lady Sansa. Soon," he added rereading the announcement.

Sandor glared at Tyrion until his usual impermeable façade began to shake a bit at the foundations. "You will have gold Clegane," Tyrion said in a tone that held more seriousness over sarcasm.

Sandor nodded and curled his fingers into fists at having to spend another day knowing Sansa was sharing a roof with the slimy Littlefinger. He turned towards the door and was a few feet down the stone hallway when Shae called for him. He didn't slow his pace and she took two steps for each of his as she spoke in a low and quick tone, "I can deliver Sansa a message from you."

Sandor continued to stare straight ahead as Shae waited for a reply, he stopped short which she hadn't expected and turned his full gaze on her upturned face.

"Come with me," he said trying to keep a commanding tone out of his words. She followed him through the halls until they reached his chambers. He left Shae in the hall and returned moments later with the bird figurine he had found in the market.

Shae accepted the red bird gingerly from Sandor that held a bright glaze and large blue painted eyes, she slipped the figure into the folds of her gown and again ventured through the castle at a casual pace until she was soon outside Lord Baelish's pleasure house. She squinted at the brothel not sure of which room Sansa was staying in or which if any of the open windows were hers.

She walked away from the brothel when the doors opened and she could hear Littlefinger laughing with a few wealthy merchants who were hoping to buy Sansa's innocence. She wandered to a shopkeeper that had billowing gowns, shawls and veils for sale. Shae deposited a few coins in the shopkeeper's palm and wrapped a gorgeous ruby shawl around her head, neck and shoulders which kept her face nearly obscured.

Shae walked back towards the doors of the pleasure house and saw Littlefinger still talking to his rich friends, he didn't glance twice when she slipped in the entrance and began a quick search for Sansa.

While Shae maneuvered her way through the pleasure house trying to be discreet, she kept her ears open and alert for Sansa's musical voice. As she ascended a flight of stairs still searching, Sandor slumped in a nondescript chair and drank from a bloated wine skin that threatened to burst at the seams.

"Gods be damned" he shouted and threw the skin across the room where it burst against the wall and hemorrhaged wine. He upended the small table that he had just been resting his hand on, the table didn't break enough to his satisfaction and he kicked and stomped on it until his anger was somewhat sated in the splintered pile.

As he sat down heavily on his bed, Shae found Sansa in the room she shared with Ros. Sansa was singing in a gentle tone as Ros brushed her long locks.

Shae cleared her throat and Sansa's eyes grew round and she nearly squealed as she ran to Shae and gave her an unembarrassed hug. Ros excused herself to give them privacy and soon Sansa was asking a million questions.

"I don't have much time my lady, I have a gift from someone," she whispered as she drew the bird figurine from her gown. She passed the bauble to Sansa whose large Tully blue eyes filled with tears at knowing who sent this without any prompting from Shae.

"He will be here the night of the banquet" Shae continued to whisper before the silence was shattered by an unwanted voice.

"How did you get in here?" came Littlefinger's voice from the doorway. Sansa stifled a gasp and was quick to slip the delicate figurine behind a plush satin pillow.

Shae turned and spun, her shawl slipping as Littlefinger's eyes narrowed.

"Did you come here to beg me to take you into my employment my dear?" Littlefinger asked in a revolting tone.

"I came to visit lady Sansa" she replied with a low tone as she moved to the center of the room and returned his stare.

"All visits need to be arranged through me," he started to say. "I'll let this one time slide but the next time will carry a different outcome," he said as he advanced on Shae.

Sansa covered her mouth again when she thought Littlefinger was about to hurt Shae but her worry evaporated and she almost giggled from behind her hand when Shae pulled her dagger and had it pointed at the front of Littlefinger's breeches as his hand closed around her upper arm.

"You will remove your hand from me or I will cut off your cock," she threatened in an icy tone. She nearly added that she would take said amputated cock to Flea Bottom but thought her original statement was more than effective as his hand fell away as though she were on fire.

"You are not welcome back," Littlefinger stated trying to give strength to his words, he failed. Shae smirked and half turned to Sansa and pulled her into a half hug, "he'll get you out of here, stay strong my lady," she whispered into her ear.

Littlefinger gave Shae a wide berth as she left Sansa and Ros's room, after she had left he turned cold eyes to Sansa. "What did she say to you?" he asked not bothering to be cordial.

Sansa swallowed hard and hoped the lie she spoke didn't rise to her eyes. She reached to her side and lifted a violet shawl that Shae had purchased along with the ruby colored one, "she wanted to give me this."

"Give it to me," he ordered and held out his hand until Sansa passed him the folded square of violet fabric. "Go to sleep, you'll need your rest."

Sansa flinched as he slammed the door and slid between the linen pulling the bird statue from under the pillow and cradling it under her chin. She pressed her lips against the cold painted surface before tucking it back out of sight.

That night the sun set as the unwashed masses that inhabited Flea Bottom gathered around the large pot that was bubbling over a wood fire. Dirt and grime crusted hands held out worn bowls for a ladleful of the bowl o' brown which had the addition of royal meat.


	14. Chapter 14

Dawn brought a bright yellow sun to shine down upon drying vomit on already stained tunics, baker's rolling out large rolls of fresh dough speckled with seeds and animals giving milk while eating dried straw.

Sansa rose with the sun and rolled to her side pulling the bird figurine close to her chest. The lacquered finish of the delicate bird statue was cold against her flushed skin, her dreams had been both nightmarish and pleasant. She had awoken several times at night to find her hands playing over her body, stroking herself until she was slick with moisture. Each time she awoke she had his name on her tongue and dreams of him kissing her, touching and being inside her.

She laid in the still dim room as she felt beads of sweat sprout across her lower back, dampening her smallclothes. She rubbed and hand across her skin, trying to wipe away the blooming drops of sweat that threatened to roll down her smooth skin.

Sansa froze with her hand on the skin of her lower back, her fingertips resting on the swell of her hip. He had touched her that way in her dream, first with his hand and then his lips. She blushed deeper and shivered when she closed her eyes when she recalled what happened next. "Sandor," she whispered into the dim room.

She had a sudden thought that she should compose a thank you note to be courteous for one thing but to also send him a message. Sansa racked her mind for ways to get a letter to him or even through Shae. With the banquet coming up, Littlefinger was sure to be close to her at all times, he would want to keep a special eye on his investment. She held a promise of a great windfall of money for him, he had already started making plans with the potential money.

Her eyes alighted on the silver clarinet in the corner. "_I could write a song_," she thought. "_And then somehow let him know the words are for him_."

She began to hum and whisper disjointed lyrics until she smoothed it into something with meaning and flow. She trailed off and turned when she heard light clapping to see Ros sitting up in bed with messy hair and disheveled smallclothes.

Sansa averted her eyes, she still had a hard time with Ros's casual near nude state for sleeping. She had awaken at times to see Ros wearing near nothing and greeting her with a smile and as though it wasn't out of the ordinary.

"That was lovely, is that for a certain someone?," she asked with a yawn and laid back down on her side still facing Sansa.

Sansa blushed and dropped her eyes, Ros chuckled, "Oh honey it's fine you don't have to tell me. Just make sure you tell Litt..Lord Baelish that it's about him."

Sansa frowned but knew Ros was right. She finally nodded and put the clarinet away and straightened the linen covers of her bed. "You can call him Littlefinger," she muttered as she sat on the edge of her mattress.

Ros had slipped back to sleep while Sansa dressed in the slowly brightening room. She was pulling her hair back when Littlefinger opened the door and walked in with an air of confidence.

"Sansa, my dear I trust you slept well?" he asked with sweet words dripping with honeyed lies.

"Yes, thank you my lord, my sleep was well."

"Good, then I wanted to discuss the banquet with you," he said with a small smile.

"Of course my lord," she said with a dip to her head.

He pushed at Ros's hip pulling her from sleep. "Wake up, this also concerns you."

Ros sat up and Littlefinger stood and directed Sansa to sit next to her.

"As you know the upcoming banquet will be a chance for the bidding hopefuls to get a better look at what they are trying to win," he started and paused while both girls absorbed his words.

He continued, "every day until the banquet you two will sing and dance and practice the craft of seduction."

Ros nodded and looked over at Sansa who managed a stiff nod despite her color drained features.

"Well, I'll check in later," he said with a curt nod and left the room.

Ros rubbed her hand in soothing circles on Sansa's back. "Can I get you anything?," she asked knowing there wasn't a whole lot she could do.

Sansa's eyes widened with a thought, "can you deliver a message to someone before or at the night of the auction, before I dance?"

Ros lifted an eyebrow, "Mmmm, who to?," she asked with a wink.

"Sandor Clegane," she whispered and Ros frowned.

"Isn't he the burned one, the Hound?," she asked in a voice that could have been mistaken for incredulous.

Sansa barely nodded and tried to get up, Ros pulled her back down and spoke quickly. "I'm sorry, I've no right to tell you who to love," she said squeezing Sansa's shoulder with each syllable to emphasize her every spoken word.

"I didn't say I loved him," Sansa stammered and Ros chuckled.

"And don't tell him even if you do, a man will do a lot to hear you say that," she added winking and rising in bedclothes at least.

Ros dressed and turned and Sansa, "I think I'll find a couple of the girls to play the song and someone to sing."

"Can Ivey sing it?," Sansa asked with hope.

"I'm sure of it," Ros said with authority and told Sansa she would return with something to eat and start the ordered first day of dancing and singing and teaching the new song.

For Sansa, every day until the banquet was a repeat of the day before. She would rise and eat with Ros, Ivey and Summer. Then the rest of the day until a pause to eat, was dancing and singing and a lot of time having Sansa observe the rest of what her job entailed.

Several of the rooms where men were entertained had small holes in the walls made by Littlefinger, he would make Sansa look into the room when a man was paying for his pleasure. He always stroked her silken hair and whisper to pay attention because his business was about bringing customers back and making money.

Her reply was always the same, a dip of the head and a demure smile. A pleasant chirp of reassurance and ego masturbation that left him always walking away feeling strong, masculine and superior.

In the midst of the exhausting dance practice with endless repetitions until Littlefinger could glean no flaw, Sansa composed a silken pouch for Sandor. She will probably never know how Ros arranged it but one day when she returned to their shared room, she had found a complete sewing kit that fit into a snug compartment under Ros's bed.

Sansa had spent complete nights with scant sleep in order to finish embroidering the silken patches of cloth. The night before the banquet she finished it. She had sewn three dogs and a grey dire wolf on the patches of yellow silk, she had added their names as one in white thread.

She had found a small patch of time to compose a short letter that told him with zero chance of misunderstanding that the song was written for him. Ros had read the first letter and said that she could not knowingly sit by and let Sansa send that letter. She had stood over Sansa's shoulder for every letter before one finally worked that was certainly bold but also nectar sweet with the barest bit of a bite.

While Sansa's days sort of blended into one, Sandor spent the days before the banquet with a simmering anger and a delicious desire to kill someone or get shit-faced drunk. He went to his favored tavern that had more people than usual, the docks had been busier with arriving merchants who were hoping to buy and claim an innocent bride.

Littlefinger had told a select few potential winning bidders that Sansa could be purchased as a wife for a larger bid. He spoke of her beauty and courtesy and other lecherous statements that were best for swine to rut upon.

Sandor drank his glass and tried to calm the rage that was brimming just under his skin. He kept thinking of Littlefinger looking at Sansa and Gods help him if he had touched her. He curled his hand around his mug and drank it dry, he gestured for a refill as a round bellied man waddled up to the bar. The fat man had elaborate and beautiful silk robes draped across his sprawling folds of fat. The fabric was stretched taut across the chest and Sandor looked down with disgust as the fat man order a mug of rich Dornish wine.

The barkeep refilled Sandor's mug and then the newcomer's cup. The man looked over and nodded at Sandor who merely continued to stare. The fat man began to sweat even more and cleared his throat nervously as he drank more of the dark wine.

The man swept his eyes over Sandor, his hair was across most of his burnt and twisted features. Sandor had on a plain wool tunic and the man raised his mug, "this is really good. So are you here for the banquet?," he tried to say in a conversational tone.

Sandor narrowed his eyes but then nodded, he let his anger sort of brush across his skin and dance across his senses. He enjoyed this aspect of the hunt and the eventual kill, the stalking of someone lesser than, someone inferior to you that you can destroy.

The man relaxed visibly as he finished his mug but still babbled incessantly, each word fueled Sandor's fire. His grey eyes became brilliant as polished stone and sunlight on the surface of the water, each word that spilled from the sweaty fat fuck's mouth made Sandor's vision bleed to red and he imagined the man's intentional viscera stuck in the webbings of his fingers.

He flexed his hand as words continued to vomit from the fat man's mouth in between sips on of a new glass of wine.

"I have come from Braavos my friend. I am very eager to see my fiery haired bride," he said as he swallowed the burgundy wine.

"Bride?," Sandor said finally breaking his silence.

The man quickly lowered his head, "I apologize, I sometimes say the wrong words."

"So what did you mean to say?," Sandor asked sitting up straighter. The round faced man swallowed hard, "well the whore at the pleasure house of course."

Sandor nodded and picked up his mug, he finished the contents in a couple of gulps.

"You traveled a long way in hopes for a fuck," Sandor said standing and rising to his full height.

The man was unable to speak and felt near to pissing his exotic robes until Sandor chuckled and left the tavern. He walked towards Littlefinger's brothel and saw the glut of people who were arriving. He remembered the fat man's word about using the word "bride" by mistake. He heard Littlefinger's laugh before he saw him and walked towards him at a brisk pace, he met no obstacles on his way.

"Baelish," came Sandor's voice and Littlefinger paused and turned an artificial smile at him.

"Well are you feeling like that free ride I promised you?," Littlefinger said with a knowing smile.

"Is Sansa being auctioned off as a bride to everyone Baelish?," Sandor growled into the shorter man's face.

Littlefinger backed up until he ran out of room to retreat, "be honest Clegane, that girl wouldn't want to be with you even if you could afford it, which I don't think you can ."

"How much?," Sandor rasped and curled his right fingers into a fist. Littlefinger watched the hand close and spoke rapidly a figure that Sandor had most of now but would have the rest by the end of that night.

"I have that," he said in a low tone and Littlefinger couldn't hide his shock at Sandor having that much gold.

"Well, then I guess we'll see you at the banquet where you will be entertained by perhaps your future bride," Littlefinger said and dropped his voice looking around. "If that night she arouses a certain response, there will be plenty of girl's with open mouths and wet cunts to take care of your every need."

Sandor fought to not break Littlefinger's neck right there, he watched the smaller man depart and returned back towards the castle. He mentally calculated how much more money he needed and headed towards Tyrion's chambers. He found him with Shae and relayed what he had found out about Sansa being auctioned as a bride also and outlined more of his plan for getting Sansa out of King's Landing and to the Free Cities.

Shae hadn't thought of his plan before and Tyrion thought it was insane enough to actually have a chance at working.

Up until the night of the banquet Sandor filled his day trying to keep his anger in check, each night he returned to the tavern and watched the fat man come in with brighter and brighter clothes and drink until he stumbled out after countless mugs of ale and wine.

Each night Sandor listens to the man discuss this maiden he heard of and after a few mugs he is very forthcoming with what he wants to do to her before he takes her innocence.

The night before the banquet finds Sandor's breaking point when the fat man again begins a slurred litany of how he will fuck this maiden until she howls like a high paid courtesan and rakes her fingernails down your back and begs for more.

Sandor follows the fat man as he begins his nightly drunken waddle out of the tavern, he follows until the man stumbles into a dark patch of scenery devoid of light. Sandor clamps a hand over the sweaty pig's mouth and slips his dagger at an upward angle in the man's flabby back until the squeals subside and the fat man becomes jellied in his arms.

Sandor wipes the blade on the portly man's expensive gowns before returning to his chambers, he found sleep that night, part of his anger extinguished with the death of the bidding swine.

The morning of the banquet found the pleasure house awake early as Littlefinger had all of the girl's dedicated to cleaning and preparing the brothel for the evening's entertainment. In between preparing for the banquet and away from Littlefinger's watchful eyes, Ros and Sansa worked out a plan for her to get the embroidered pouch to Sandor.

This day was going to last a long time.


	15. Chapter 15

Sandor rose at midday with a deep headache and the acidic aftertaste of bile in his throat. He groaned and filled his mouth with wine, swished it around and spit it out onto the dirt floor.

"Seven hells," he muttered as he stretched his arms overhead and heard his joints pop.

While Sandor rose and thought about what the evening held, Sansa was still slumbering in the slowly brightening room. She was sprawled on her stomach as she dreamed of singing her song in person to Sandor while he lounged on one of the many piles of satin cushions watching her.

In her dream she swiveled her hips with the barest of cloth strips hiding her intimacy from his eyes.

His name was on her tongue when Ros awoke her with a gentle shake wearing a still tired smile and holding out a small mug of tea issuing tendrils of steam.

Sansa rolled over and sat up and took the tea from Ros, she let the mug warm her hands until she able to take a small sip.

Ros had a list from Littlefinger for the girl's to complete before the start of the banquet. They would be both busy with a couple last rehearsals before taking long soaks in perfumed water and having their hair brushed until it held a dull gleam.

While Sansa and Ros slowly finished their tea and Sandor dressed with his headache pounding behind his eyes, Littlefinger worked through his calculations again of how much gold Sansa's cunt was going to bring him tonight. He nearly clapped like a child being entertained by carved wooden animals when he reread the total.

While Littlefinger checked the progress of the girl's scrubbing the tile and the other's arranging the banquet table and seating areas, Sansa and Ros finished their tea before heading to rehearse and again Ros had to promise that she would get the sewn pouch to Sandor.

While the girl's danced to Ivey's singing and Summer's instrumental playing, Sandor strode through the castle and nearly trampled over Shae.

"You really should be careful around corners," she snapped as she crossed your arms.

"Tell the half-man that I need more gold," he ordered before turning on his heel and marching away.

"And a bath!" she called to his broad back. She stood her ground and raised her chin in staunch defiance when he turned back towards her.

"What did you say?" he asked with zero inflection.

Shae chuckled and squeezed her nose and spoke in a higher trill tone, "I said you need a bath Sandor Clegane. You stink!"

She nearly cackled when he only frowned, "oh that can 't upset someone like you. Come with me and I'll fill you a tub with rosewater and lavender," she said.

"Bah, I don't want to smell like a godsdamned flower," he growled as Shae tugged on his arm.

"Okay, perhaps no flowers but some strong herbs to cut through this layer of dirt," she tisked as she ran a fingertip along the grimy surface of his hand.

While Sandor listened to Shae further insist on a bath as she led him towards a room with a fine copper basin and earthy scented bathing oils, the brothel began to become quite the point of interest.

As the sun continued to set, Lord Baelish's pleasure house grew more alive. It pulsed, alive with the promise of fulfilling sex and crippling orgasms.

Littlefinger had positioned himself at the entrance with a new whore to the brothel that was good with numbers and writing. He would greet each attendee and accept their money and initial bid. It was also at this time that the next man in line could see where bids were ranging and how to go about his bidding plan.

The young whore had sun kissed skin and dark hair. Littlefinger would look at the money before passing it to her, she would then record the bid and name of the bidder on a thin sheet of parchment.

Sandor joined the long line of men walking into the brothel, he adjusted his stiff tunic as his turn to be greeted with Littlefinger's slimy smile approached. While Sandor longed for a drink to quell his growing anger that had remained quiet most of the day, Ros finished running the wide tooth comb through Sansa's hair until every strand glowed.

"Don't be nervous, I'll be with you the whole time and so will the other girls," Ros said as the other girls nodded in agreement.

"With a dress like that, you could walk out there and talk about sewing and they'd fall over dead with lust," Ivey giggled and Sansa followed suit and eventually they were all

laughing.

Ros eventually shushed them and tucked the pouch from Sansa into her gown, "I'm going to go deliver a little message. I'll see you soon," she whispered and winked before slipping out the door.

Sansa and the other girl's made their way to a curtained seating area off of the area where the singing and dancing would soon entertain the bidding men.

While Sansa repeated her song to herself again, keeping Sandor's face in her mind it was his turn to pay and struggle to not rip out Littlefinger's testicles through his nose.

"Ah, Lord Clegane are you looking forward to the evening's festivities?" Littlefinger asked with an artificial smile plastered across his thin lips.

"I'm no lord," he spat.

"No matter, I only care that you have coin," he said with genuine truth.

Sandor hefted a healthy pouch of gold at Littlefinger who was surprised at the amount and the dark haired whore recorded the bid. Sandor had just gotten past the grand entrance of the brothel when Ros was soon before him with her small hand snaking into his. He was further confused when she pressed a small folded piece of silk into his palm and whispered in a low tone before skipping away, "from a little bird."

Another whore was soon at his side and led him to the seat that was dictated dependent on one's bidding amount, he was very close to the front with his very impressive opening bid.

From his seat he looked around as he unwrapped the square of silk which opened to the pouch she had embroidered for him. His mouth twitched at the corners and he pulled the small slip of paper that was peeking out of the shiny fabric pouch.

He blinked several times at the bold tone of words that didn't need to be signed. He reread the note and looked up to see Littlefinger take the stage as the seats filled with the other bidding hopefuls. He glanced one more time at the note and running his rough fingertips over the silk threads before slipping them both into his tunic.

"_Tonight the men here think I dance for them, they are wrong. I dance for you and the words are from my heart to only you. I have nothing to give you but a tarnished name and no riches but I give you all of my love and loyalty. Tonight is only for you, my hands become yours as they move across my body."_

Sandor drank deep from the mug a mousey dark haired whore set near him, Littlefinger cleared his throat and gave a reptilian smile, his tongue almost flicking when he moistened his lips.

"Thank you to those who traveled a great distance to be here and those that reside in our glorious city," he looked at a few faces in the crowd and continued with his litany, this time turning the topic to Sansa.

"Tonight your eyes will indulge on the beauty of an innocent maiden with fiery red hair who has been taught every courteous before arriving here and well now," he paused to wink. "After some time here she is quite educated."

A buzz of laughter swept through the crowd and Sandor clenched his jaw.

Littlefinger thanked the crowd again and said the next turn to bid would be a little later, he told them again to enjoy the show and Summer and Ivey walked out on the makeshift stage area and took their seats. Ros followed the girl's out and then Sansa scurried out on stage, initially she froze when she felt all eyes turn to stare at her.

She frantically scanned the crowd until her eyes found Sandor's face, he let her scream her fear into his gaze and she felt her nerves settle as he gave her the barest of smiles.

Sansa let her eyes fall partially closed and she tried to eliminate all outside sounds except for the start of Ivey's soothing voice. The new gown the tailor had designed was a pale peach, second skin that highlighted her sharp cheekbones that were starting to redden with the touch of a blush.

She let her hips began to sway side to side as she lost herself in the young girl's song. Her fiery red hair fell in loose waves around her pale shoulders and teased the smooth valley of skin between her breasts.

"_My eyes seek you in a city drowning with night, my lips whisper your name"_

Sandor emptied his mug of ale as Sansa's swaying hips became more fluid in their movement and his eyes became hypnotized by the fabric that skimmed and swirled around her thighs.

Sansa let her hands trail up her silk covered waist and brush against the sides of her minimally fabric covered breasts. There was a collective groan from the bidding audience as Sansa teased her fingertips across the low cut bodice that kissed her right breast.

"_Let my hands caress your skin and bring you pleasure"_

Sandor shifted in his seat, his anger grew as the arousal rate of the audience increased. He wanted a private audience as Sansa grew more comfortable and bold in her movements.

Sandor, Littlefinger and nearly all of the other bidding hopefuls felt a surge of wanton lust when Sansa's teasing of the bodice fabric exposed more of her soft skin for a split second before she placed her hand over the creamy expanse of skin and felt her nipple harden under her palm through the thin layers of cloth.

Ivey's voice dipped lower as her voice accompanied Sansa's undulating limbs.

"_My heart aches at your pain, I'll replace the past with love"_

Sandor could hear the rapid breathing of the robed merchant sitting near him, the wealthy pig had snapped his fingers for an available whore whose mouth was now working the length of his rigid cock. Sandor clenched his teeth until his jaw popped as the merchant kept his eyes on Sansa's innocent body as he fucked the whore's mouth and muttered the order in which he would use her body for his pleasure.

"_Place your lips upon my breasts, while my thighs pull you closer, My love, take me in your arms"_

As Ivey's song came to end, Sansa's movements slowed and she came back to reality and being the center of attention. The room exploded into applause and lusty cheers as Sansa dipped into a graceful curtsey and would have been lost on the stage had Ros not come and escorted her to a small alcove with a soft pile of pillows and gave her a full mug of honeyed wine that splashed over the rim.

Sansa brushed her hand across the fine sheen of sweat that had blossomed on her forehead and took a big gulp from the mug.

"Was I okay?" Sansa asked with a desperate plea as she gripped Ros's hand.

Ros smiled and pushed a strand of Sansa's hair back behind her ear. "You were magnificent, Litt…Lord Baelish will not be able to walk around the piles of money that are going to be given for the opportunity to touch you."

Sansa blushed and then both girls jumped when Sandor's raspy voice sounded from the doorway.

"If you dance that way for everyone, there will be a riot before anyone can even win."

Sansa's blush deepened at the probable truth in his words but her happiness at seeing him standing before her overrode any hurt. She started towards him and was stopped by Ros's grip on her bare upper arm.

"Not here," Ros hissed and pointed down a long hall that led to a small private patio where Sandor and Sansa could be alone for a few moments. "Hurry," Ros said waving her hand, "you don't have much time before Littlefinger is going to want to walk you around the room and introduce you."

Sandor looked down at Sansa's beautiful upturned face, her eyes still bright from the rush of eliciting such emotions from the men in the room. He was happier than he showed when she slipped her small smooth hand into his larger and rougher skinned hand and started down the silk tapestry lined hall.

He let her pull him through a set of dark plum colored curtains onto the stone floor of the oval outdoor sitting area. There was an ornately carved squat table and pair of matching chairs adorned with lacy pillows and a high moon overhead which cast a soft glow on everything it shone upon.

Sandor was distracted by the moonlight that made the exposed pale skin of her neck and chest glow and was brought back to reality at the sound of her hurried whispers.

"How long until we can leave?," she asked casting an anxious glance to the still closed curtains.

Sandor interpreted her near frantic tone that she had been hurt. His anger swelled and he was ready to throw her over Stranger's back and swing his long sword with furious rage to get them out of King's Landing.

"Have you been harmed?," he asked in a low voice and Sansa was already shaking her head before he finished speaking the last syllable.

"No, I've not been hurt," she said as she closed the distance between them and timidly placed a hand on his tunic above his heart. The rough fibers scratched against her palm and her eyes sought his. "I just want to be free of this accursed city."

"Little bird?," he asked as she raised up on her toes and brought her lips within millimeters of his.

"I danced only for you," she whispered before she pressed her lips flush against his.


	16. Chapter 16

For a couple of seconds Sandor's world was disemboweled and then reassembled as Sansa's feverishly hot lips pressed against his. She started to lower herself back onto her heels when he moved in a flash and pulled her into his strong arms. She barely had time to take a breath before his lips were on hers and he nearly lifted her off the ground.

He could feel the press of her breasts through his tunic and her warm skin under his hands through the scant amount of silken fabric.

"Little bird," he mumbled as he broke his lips away from hers and whispered against her forehead and temple.

Sansa abruptly took a step back and had her gown smoothed back in place as soon as she heard Littlefinger's voice ringing from behind the dark cloth curtains.

"There you are," Littlefinger stated in an accusatory tone after he had roughly ripped the curtains open. He was trailed by the mousey yet mathematical whiz whore and Ros.

"My lord," Sansa said dropping her eyes. Before her eyes left Littlefinger's, she gave him a sweet and demure smile that sliced through his Achilles and dissipated his anger before she fed him lies that he swallowed like honey.

"He has offered to escort me so that I may meet the bidding hopefuls without fear of being hurt," Sansa said in a gentle tone and gestured towards Sandor.

Littlefinger felt trapped by her innocence and cleared his throat, "that is very generous of you," he started and then his slimy lips pulled back into a reptilian grin. "But first, you'll need to increase your bid should you wish for your banquet invitation to remain in place."

Sandor tossed a pouch of gold dragons towards Littlefinger, who managed to not fumble them. After he checked the pouch's contents he passed it to the whore who quickly counted the coins and added Sandor's new bid to the parchment paper that held the current bidders names and bid amounts.

"My lord, if you'll please excuse me. I shouldn't keep our guests waiting," Sansa said in a soft tone and added the barest of a flutter to the fringe of eyelashes around her Tully blue eyes.

Sandor watched Littlefinger freely consume her honeyed lies, sticky sweet with deceit that he swallowed with enthusiasm.

"Of course," Littlefinger managed to say with a shred of stoicism and held back the curtains and stepped aside for first Sansa to pass and then Sandor. He watched the pair depart, the lithe pale flower from the north who was ripe with innocence that was growing more curious and sure of her feelings. The delicate beauty was flanked by the hulking form of Sandor and many of the lustful bidders halted when his life-taking tendencies flashed through his eyes.

For the remainder of the time that Sansa spent among the bidders, no man dared lay a finger upon her against her will. Compliments and courtesies rained over her and could have provided sustenance in time of famine as she mingled with the winning hopefuls. In between meeting and playing the part of the shy maiden to the very definition, Sandor and Sansa were able to share a few conversations. In between the sweating hands and brows of lip licking and wetting merchants and wealthy bidders, they were able to share a few words.

As Sansa and Sandor approached the men that were either lounging or walking around the pleasure house with wine and honeyed ale, Sansa dropped her voice an octave and slowed her pace until Sandor was closer.

"Did my dance please you?," she asked in a hesitating tone.

Sandor nearly laughed but sobered when he saw that she was asking from a place of diminished self-confidence and a near to broken spirit.

"You pleased me," he finally said in a voice that made her intimate parts grow wet and she wanted to squeeze her thighs together. A low blush filled her face which was also pleasing to the merchant she approached who fought the urge to touch her when Sandor's eyes met his.

After Sansa giggled at the merchants disjointed and predictable joke, she departed and mingled with the crowd until she was approached by a different merchant in deep green robes with real gold clasps and large hands with fingers thick as blood sausages that glittered with ruby rings.

It was Sandor this time that dipped his voice lower as the merchant approached and spoke for her ears alone.

"You need to be ready to leave in three night's time," he whispered.

"Three nights?," she gasped managing to keep her voice low and continued in a hurried tone. "Before the auction?"

"Aye," was all he had time to say before the grotesquely wealthy and emerald robed merchant was promising Sansa sprawling homes with massive gardens should he win her hand. If he had the time he would have said the urgency in departure was due to the way Littlefinger looked at her, the way his eyes seem to leave a trail of slime across her porcelain skin. He didn't want to leave her another night let alone three.

Sandor had to give credit to Sansa's taught courtesies at concealing her shock and seeming to understand instantly that Littlefinger was selling more than just her maidenhood. She managed to part from the merchant's company and turned to Sandor. "Is he selling me?," she whispered.

"You are being offered to several men for more than one night," he answered in unaccustomed delicacy as he continued following her through the pleasure house.

"Put that all out of your head little bird," he whispered as she quickly turned away from Ivey leading one enthusiastic bidder to a private room. Littlefinger had all of the girl's mingling in the crowd also and taking are of any distractions that arose from being in Sansa's presence.

"In three nights, word will spread in King's Landing that Sansa Stark is dead. You will be taken to cart with a rider in a grey cloak where it will be assumed you are being taken to a place to prepare your body for burial," he was able to say before a whip thin but very tall man gave Sansa a deep bow.

"You are more beautiful than Lord Baelish said in his letter," the man said and continued to croon compliments and praises at her. She nodded and blushed where it was expected and blew out a breath when he finally left, leaving promises of a castle on the water in his wake.

"The rider will be that of your friend Shae," Sandor whispered as soon as the thin man was out of earshot.

Sansa was pleased he had referred to Shae as her friend over an inferior. "How will it be determined that I am dead?," she asked turning directions when a blonde lord started towards her.

"You'll find a small jar behind your bed, mix everything inside it with tea before you go to sleep. In the morning it will appear as though your heart has stopped and you shall remain that way for half a day before slowly awakening," he whispered as she let her hand come to rest on a carafe of wine and a few empty goblets.

"Will you share a drink with me?," she asked pouring two full glasses of the red Dornish wine before he could answer.

He took the goblet she offered and drank deeply, "when you awake we shall hopefully be on the water if everything goes according to plan."

Littlefinger watched from around a silk draped column as Sansa and Sandor each drank their wine. He squinted as even with straining his ears he had been unable to pick up any of the conversation.

He was intelligent enough to keep a safe distance, Sandor would shoot a random glance at him always seeming to know exactly where he was standing. Littlefinger slid back behind the column, concealed for the moment from Sandor's fierce gaze. His mind worked furiously on how to separate Sansa from the Hound, he had seen her eyes take on real life when she looked up at the fearsome man. Littlefinger couldn't wrap his mind around the way her features bloomed under his gaze, the color that flamed in her cheeks when his rough voice coaxed an embarrassed eye-dropping smile while her breath increased and made her breasts strain against her gown.

Sandor continued to shadow Sansa as she made small talk with other bidding men, while the goblets of wine and ale were never allowed to run dry it succeeded in making the wealthy men intoxicated. Several merchants were already slurring their words and one had stumbled outside to vomit in the street.

Littlefinger took a place at a central point in the room and began speaking over the buzz of drunken conversation.

"Gentlemen," he started and increased his voice's volume until the bidders drew their eyes away from the half-naked whores with breasts boasting blush pink nipples and spread thighs. He was finally able to deliver his address that was of course polite and articulate, his guests trailed out to either return to respective residence's or rented room. Most cast a last and lingering gaze at Sansa as she stood next to Sandor feeling more alive and invigorated than she had in a long time, she felt safe standing so close to him and wanted nothing than for him to lead her away.

"Just three nights," she said as he prepared to leave after the last wealthy merchant had stumbled out.

"Aye, it will be here soon," he said as Littlefinger started towards them at a brisk pace. He arrived to silence and clenched his teeth at not catching any of their conversation. He watched the large man with the burnt and twisted features depart, leaving Sansa with an empty goblet and unreadable smile.

"Did you two have a nice chat?," Littlefinger asked in a friendly forced tone.

"He merely was keeping me safe my lord," Sansa said dipping her head.

"You two talked about your safety for quite some time," he smirked and reached out and traced his fingertips along her jaw line.

He stepped close to her and closed the distance between them, "such beautiful eyes," he whispered. His words were delivered with a breath that was pungent with stale wine.

"It would be a shame if one of them were to go missing should you be lying to me," he hissed and a drop of spittle flew from his lips and landed on her smooth cheek. Sansa's breath grew faster and she tried to back up from him but bumped into a low table and he was able to pull her into his arms.

"My lord, please," she said in a panicky tone as he squeezed his arms around her thin form.

"What were you discussing my dear?," he asked again and flicked his tongue against her ear.

"I asked him who killed Joffrey and if it was true what I heard about the queen, my lord," she said rapidly as he slid one hand slowly down her waist to brush against the swell of her hips and bottom.

His hand paused and he frowned, "you were inquiring about castle gossip?," he asked with a chuckle.

"Yes, my lord. I'm sorry, I know it's not fit for a lady," she said as she dropped her eyes.

To her surprise he laughed and reversed the direction of his hand in a split second and slid up her side to cup her breast through her thin gown. He squeezed her breast until he forced a whimper to spill from her lips. "You're not a lady anymore Sansa, you're a whore," he whispered and stepped away from her suddenly. He continued to chuckle as he walked away, he had been distracted by the knowledge of all the money the brunette whore was currently tallying. As much as he wanted to illicit more moans from Sansa's lips, gold was his true sustenance.

Sandor had returned to his chambers and was emptying another wineskin when Shae knocked at his chamber door. He let her in and the two discussed and planned the order of events over the next three nights. She had more gold from Tyrion who was eating regularly as she had demanded and it looked as though his skin was starting to knit properly and maybe the scar wouldn't be as horrific as first thought.

The castle gossip exploded over the next three days after the discovery of Pycelle's body Cersei's apparent murder/suicide and the unexplained disappearance of Lady Margery Tyrell.

Sansa was on pins and needles the next three days, as she laid down for sleep on the second night following the banquet she found the small jar that Sandor spoke of and looked at the dried herb and white powdery contents. The small dried stems and leaves were dotted with golden petals that had red edges that looked as though they had been painted by hand.

Sandor checked during the three days that all of his swords and assorted daggers had a sharp and honed edge and Shae located a thick grey cloak and a place to steal away one of the carts that hauled away the dead for burial or crude autopsies and examinations.

Littlefinger spend the three days counting his gold over and over and would often seek out Sansa and tease her until she looked ready to jump out of her own skin. He hadn't laid a finger on her since the evening after the banquet and instead used his words to make her struggle to not shudder or cringe.

He was so distracted at the sea of gold that spilled out of a large wooden box that he failed to see her own distracted features and hopeful expression.

The sun set on the evening of the third day and night began to settle over King's Landing, inky black shadows filled the barren alleyways and Ros brought Sansa a heavy mug of scalding water and helped mix the herbs into the water which turned a muddy brown in color.

"When I wake up, I'll be far away from here," Sansa whispered to Ros and began to drink the hot contents as fast as she was capable. Ros merely nodded her head and brushed a hand across Sansa's brow, "you'll be a free woman."


	17. Chapter 17

Ros's scream was long and shrill and awoke nearly all the occupants of the brothel including Littlefinger who stumbled towards her and Sansa's room. His head was aching as he increased his pace when Ros's next scream ended in choking sobs. He squinted his eyes as the dull ache in his head began a steady drumbeat and he pushed open the door to the girl's room.

Ros knew that Sansa was going to appear dead after drinking the bitter tea but seeing her pale form and still chest made her screams partially real. Littlefinger forgot his pain filled skull and sour stomach when his eyes found Sansa's ashen body sprawled across her silk sheets.

She was lying flat on her back, her lifeless limbs already cooled to the touch. One pallid arm was resting across her smooth belly and the other arm splayed at her side. Sansa's fiery hair spilled across her pillow and a few tendrils kissed the exposed skin of her pale upper chest.

Littlefinger had no words as another sob spilled from between Ros's lips and she covered her face with her hands as he crossed the room in three large steps and dropped to Sansa's side. He reached out and grabbed the hand that was resting on her smooth abdomen.

He nearly recoiled when his warm hands enclosed her chilly hand that had grown flaccid once the stiffening after death had occurred. Her hand had a feeling of being pliable and not real, he released it where it flopped back down to rest on her body.

He swallowed hard as acidic bile climbed his throat and sat back from Sansa's side and then remembered that Ros was still there. He half-crawled to her side and let his hand come to rest in the middle of her back.

Littlefinger moved his hand in a slow circle and tried to think of something comforting to say to the crying girl. He rubbed his hand in a more vigorous circle as he tried to shake off the cold fingers of death that had come from Sansa's body.

While Littlefinger spoke softly to Ros, she tried to not make eye contact with him. She kept telling herself that Sansa was not really gone and that in not too much time she would be sailing across the sea with the terrifying man that made others shudder in his presence.

Ros let Littlefinger pull her into a awkward hug and eventually rested the side of her face against his chest. She was left looking at Sansa's presumed corpse and listening to the beating heart of the vile and reptilian Littlefinger.

While Ros closed her eyes to shut out Sansa's body, Shae was spreading a few rough woolen blankets across the bottom of the cart. She grunted as she pushed a last large sack onto the cart and checked the harnesses for excessive wear. She had sat with Sandor for a long time the previous night and discussed anything that could go wrong.

As Shae continued looking over the cart, Sandor left his quarters for the final time and headed towards the harbor. While he secured passage on a ship, the captain promised the utmost privacy and swiftest sailing for a heavy pouch of gold dragons.

Sandor grunted as he inspected the ship's quarters that they would call home as they sailed to the Free Cities. There was a poorly crafted bureau that sagged sadly in one corner and a narrow bed that despite a musty scent was soft enough and the bed's linens would offer enough warmth when the sun set.

While Sandor walked through the rest of the ship's sparse cabins, Littlefinger stood and mumbled to Ros as he left the room with his eyes diverted from Sansa's chilled form. "Take care of this."

Ros watched him leave and after a few moments stood and arranged Sansa's limbs in an orderly fashion and smoothed her hair back in place to rest against her pale skin. She pulled a few of the bed linens up and closed them around Sansa's form and left the room to pretend to go seek out one of the silent men who retrieved the dead and carted them to their final resting place.

Ros passed by Littlefinger's chambers as she left the brothel, he was standing at the small table that was piled high with correspondence from many of the wealthy merchants and landowners that were vomiting obscene amounts of money in order to attain ownership of Sansa's innocence and hand. Ros held her breath as she continued to watch Littlefinger pick up the top letter from a neat stack of parchment and run his eyes over the words and the penned promises of wealth. She continued on her way out when he tore the letter to pieces and then swept an arm across the top of the desk, clearing the surface to rain now irrelevant words and staggering amounts of gold.

Ros hurried down the brothel steps and headed toward the castle's stables, she found Shae waiting right where she promised out of sight behind the sturdy stables away from prying eyes. She climbed up on the bench seat of the cart and settled next to Shae who had pulled the grey cloak's hood up to cover her sun kissed skin and exotic facial features.

Shae steered the cart towards the brothel and followed Ros to where Sansa was impersonating the dead with such spot on accuracy that Shae's heart lurched in her chest and a momentary flash of fear settled in her belly when her eyes found Sansa's still form.

"Hurry," Shae whispered and folded a thin layer of cloth over Sansa's slack featured face. Ros had fetched Ivey and Summer to help carry the former and now assumed dead Lady Sansa Stark. As the girl's carried her cool to the touch body to the cart only Shae and Ros knew that Sansa was still alive even though she appeared otherwise. Sandor had not wanted to let anyone else know about their plans, he said too many people having knowledge could vanquish success.

Ivey sniffed back tears as Shae climbed onto the cart and prepared to depart towards the harbors where Sandor would meet them. "Now you're a free woman," Ros whispered as Shae steered the cart down the sloped street.

Littlefinger heard Ivey's soft cries and walked out of his room to see the cart with Sansa departing. He looked up with narrowed eyes as his eyes took in the much smaller rider than usual when it came to accompanying the dead to their new home in the dirt. His frown deepened when he saw the slim wrists and hands holding the reins, he snapped his finger at a young boy leading a horse and small cart of grain and barley.

"Boy, give me your horse and you can buy a new life," he stated and tossed more gold at the boy than he would never see in ten lifetimes.

"Yes my lord," the boy managed to breathe as his eyes widened at his instant wealth and change of status and societal standing.

Littlefinger detached the cart and followed on horseback, he hugged to the right side of the streets so that he would be partially obscured by the many vendors flags and colorful tents should the rider look over their shoulder.

Shae stayed alert even as the docks neared, she would only be free to relax when she watched the ship leave the harbor. She scanned the alleyways for Sandor, he had told her that he would meet her at the alleyway by a rather unpopular tavern that served lukewarm piss ale at steep prices.

While she squinted at approaching alleys, Sandor was already watching her. He was more interested in the rider that was hidden in the shadows but following Shae at a steady pace. He pulled a wickedly sharp and curved blade from a worn sheath and hid deep in the alley shadows and let Shae ride past him, he wanted both women close to the harbors and away from what was going to happen.

He peered from the inky blackness of the alley as the rider neared, Sandor recognized the reptilian Littlefinger just before he emerged from the alley and pulled him down from his expensive horse.

Littlefinger struggled in Sandor's Valyrian steel grip, he made pathetic mewling noises as his breath was cut off by a rough hand around his pristine neck.

"You shouldn't have come here," Sandor growled into Littlefinger's face.

He tried to speak and could only sputter as his face turned dark red. Sandor loosened his grip enough for him to take a deep breath.

"You can 't harm me, I can make sure your head ends up on a spike," Littlefinger said thinking he could formulate an effective threat.

Sandor's lips broke into an unusual amused smile and he chuckled in Littlefinger's face.

"Who is going to mourn you?," Sandor asked and tightened his fist around his throat.

Littlefinger had no air with which to scream as Sandor's blade entered his lower abdomen, the end of the curved blade hooked through his intestines and severed every artery it touched. The expensive tunic quickly became saturated with a sea of sticky and warm blood as Sandor drew the blade across the entire expanse of Littlefinger's belly.

"I'd be made a lord for this, probably given a castle," Sandor said as Littlefinger's eyes glazed over and he became still. He released the pleasure house owner's lifeless body to the ground and moved him to an even more recessed corner of the alley where the darkness seemed to swallow and hide the body. Sandor patted his hands along Littlefinger's corpse and found a few smaller pouches of gold and silver. He pocketed his finds and made his way to the harbors to catch up with Shae who was with the one person that made his heart beat.

He quickly made up the distance on the horse he had pulled Littlefinger from, his eyes found Shae and she was visibly relieved when she met his gaze.

"Where were you?," she asked as he moved past her and climbed into the cart next to Sansa's wan form.

"Well?," Shae asked practically stomping her foot.

"I ran into someone," he mumbled and let all of his attention fall on Sansa.

Shae gave him a half-smile as he brushed a hand across Sansa's cheek and grabbed a couple small satchels that held clothing and a few trinkets from Sansa's chambers. Shae had made sure that the gold dragons were secure in their cloth linings and had let a small giggle slip out of her lips when she placed a wrapped lemon cake on top of one of the bags.

"You need to go," she finally said after she had loaded the satchels on the ship. The captain was ready to go and remembered that he was paid to not ask questions when he watched Sandor carry in the silk wrapped body.

Shae stood on the wooden harbor as the ship sailed away with the paid off captain and skeleton crew. Sandor remained in the small quarters with Sansa until morning. He found himself unable to sleep and kept pressing his head to her chest, straining to hear her heart beat. He felt his nerves finally began to settle when he found that holding his breath would give him enough silence to hear the quiet and infrequent beats of her heart.

He let his head fall back on one of the pillows as the sun washed over the ship and made the water glitter, he was careful to not pull her into his embrace in case she was startled when she awoke. _"I'm just going to sleep a few minutes,"_ he thought before she slipped into a deep and much needed sleep.

Sansa became aware of how cold her toes were before any other coherent thought could be formulated.

Her left big toe was nearly numb and she tried to wiggle all of her toes. She frowned and grimaced in her sleep as she rotated her entire left foot and heard her ankle give an audible pop.

Sansa's eyelids fluttered and her bleary vision took in the dark wooden beams of the ceiling and wall slats. She eventually figured out the constant background noise was water splashing and thought it had a sort of soothing quality. She turned her neck when her vision finally cleared and blinked rapidly at Sandor's sleeping and snoring form.

She suppressed a shiver in the cold cabin of the ship and sat up in the narrow bed. Her vision blurred and she swayed slightly when she sat up too fast and reached out to steady herself against Sandor's chest.

At that moment two things happened.

Sandor awoke with a start and was immediately alert and gripped one of her forearms to keep her sitting upright. Sansa found herself running her hand across his broad chest, feeling the strength under his clothes. She smiled and bit her lower lip, she met his eyes for a split second before a slow blush filled her face.

Sandor was happy to see that color was returning to her face and limbs, he still didn't like how cold she was and noticed that she kept trying to not shiver.

"How do you feel?," he asked as she looked around the small and plain room.

"I'm cold," she said and crossed her arms over her chest.

He didn't reply verbally, instead he laid back on the bed and pulled her into his arms. She was too shocked too move and stayed as still as the dead as he adjusted the bed linens around them. She was overwhelmed with the sensation of his body under her hands and now she was hugged close to his body and was intoxicated by his very masculine scent.

"Are you hungry or thirsty little bird?," he asked once they were cocooned under the covers. The captain had said there would be hot food available as well as a limited supply of fresh stone fruit.

"It seems funny, I'm tired even though I just woke up."

"You weren't sleeping," he said in a solemn tone and tightened his arm around her.

They slept for the morning and in the early afternoon, Sandor rose and went to see the captain. The two men talked while sharing a wine skin and the captain said all was going well and they were making good progress. After the wine was gone, the men parted ways.

The captain returned to his quarters to look over a map and Sandor returned to the small room with two bowls of stew. He was happy to see Sansa eat and push away the close to empty bowl, she gave a contented stretch and walked to the small bags that Shae had packed.

"Are we free?," she asked with her pregnant with hope.

"Aye little bird, Sansa Stark is believed to have died in King's Landing."

"You and I are free to be together?," she asked turning towards him her eyes lighting up.

He smiled and nodded at her growing happiness.

"What will we do when we arrive in the Free Cities?," she asked as she crossed the room to stand in front of him.

"We can do anything you want," he said and pulled her towards him so she could settle sideways on his lap.

"I want a house where we can have a garden," she said and wrapped and arm around his neck and leaned against his chest.

"What else?," he asked and ran his fingers through her wave of fiery red hair.

"A room with a copper bathing tub and soft towels," she whispered and pressed her lips against his throat. Her lips brushed across the strong pulse in his neck and kissed a trail up to his mouth.

"What else?," he asked as his hands moved up and down her body, touching and caressing until soft moans spilled from her lips.

"A large bed with a feathered mattress," she whispered and gasped as his hand slipped up the bottom of her thin gown and traced a path up to her thigh. She shifted in his lap and he growled into her mouth and carried her to the bed.

His hand moved up her waist and cupped her breast through the thin fabric, she arched her back and he slipped his hand back to her dress and hiked it up and off of her body. He could barely restrain himself when he had her body bare underneath him, he sat back and started removing his clothes. She averted her eyes and let her arm cover her breasts.

"Don't hide from me," he growled and settled next to her on the bed.

Her breathing was uneven as his hands moved across her naked limbs. Her blush pink nipples hardened under his palms and he swallowed her sighs with a deep kiss.

He moved so that she was under him and never broke their kiss, he nudged her thighs apart and settled closer to her body and her bared intimacy.

Her breathing quickened as he trailed a hand across her smooth belly and dip to the apex at the top of her thighs. His cock grew so hard it ached against Sansa's thigh as he ran a fingertip across her slick folds and the cluster of nerves that hardened under his touch and forced a cry from her.

"Little bird," he said in a choked voice as he increased the rhythm of his fingertip on the small bundle of nerves until she was rocking her hips as her cunt began to ache with need.

She started to speak when pleasure washed over her, as the first wave receded he pushed her thighs further apart and positioned himself at her wet opening. A second wave spilled across her as he slowly slid the entire length of his manhood inside of her.

Sandor met her mouth with his as he moved inside of her and swallowed her pain until it passed and she could feel his body tighten as he struggled to not lose control.

His hand settled on her hips and his fingertips pressed into her skin as his whole body tightened and he released his seed inside of her.

For a few moments each were consumed with the fading afterglow of their releases and could only hear their own hearts pounding in their ears. Eventually they settled down next to each other and he draped the linen over her shoulders.

Before Sandor fell into a sated sleep, he tightened his arms and pulled her further into his embrace. "You'll need to pick out names for our new lives," he whispered as his eyes closed and he fell into sleep's waiting arms.

Sansa smiled against his bare chest, the side of her face was pressed over his heart and she listened to the strong and comforting beat. She soon joined him in the land of sleep with the thought of the new lives that waited them in the Free Cities.

~A/N~

Thank you so much everyone for reading and taking this journey. I so hope you were pleased with the outcome, xoxo


End file.
